"But they did yield. What explanation have you to give of that?"
"I wish I could explain." And again the governor combed his hair.
"I'll have an explanation to-morrow!--you see if I don't!" But the Major never did.
On the morrow, punctually at 6 a.m., an imposing procession started to unlock. There were the inspector, governor, chief warder, second warder, and the warder who carried the keys.
"I don't think we shall have much difficulty in getting the men out of their cells this time," remarked the Major. They did not. "Good--good God!" he spluttered, when they reached the corridor; "what--what on earth's the meaning of this?" He had predicted rightly. They would have no difficulty in getting the men out of their cells: they were out already--men, and bedding, and planks, and all. There was a man fast asleep in bed in front of each cell-door.
"I thought I had given instructions that a special watch was to be kept all night," the Major roared.
"So there has been," answered the chief warder, whose head and face and neck were purple. "Warder Slater here has only just gone off duty. Now then, Slater, what's the meaning of this?"
"I don't know," protested Slater, whose mountain of flesh seemed quivering like jelly. "It's not a minute ago since I went to get my keys, and they was all inside their cells when I went down."
"Who let them out, then?"
The Major glared at him, incredulity in every line of his countenance.