“Now,” said Jack, throwing off his coat, “I want a wrench, screwdriver, hammer and a pair of pincers if you’ve got them.”
“Here is the tool chest,” said the Governor, and Jack found all he needed. Bidding the Governor hold the candle here, there and elsewhere, and ordering the gaoler about as if he were an apprentice, Jack set energetically to work, and for half an hour no one spoke.
“Turn on that water again,” he commanded.
The Governor did so, and the machine whirred with quite a different note. Half a dozen electric lamps in the room flooded the place with a dazzling white glow.
“There you are,” cried Jack, rubbing the oil off his hands on a piece of coarse sacking. “Now, Tommy, put these things back in the tool chest,” he said to the gaoler. Then to the Governor:
“Let’s see how things look in the big room.”
The passage was lit, and the Governor’s room showed every mark on wall, ceiling and floor.
“I told you, Governor,” said Jack with a laugh, “that I didn’t know why I was sent here, but now I understand. Providence took pity on you, and ordered me to strike a light.”
At that moment the gaoler entered with his jingling keys, and the enthusiastic expression faded from the Governor’s face, leaving it once more coldly impassive, but he spoke in German instead of Russian.
“I am very much indebted to your Highness, and it grieves me that our relationship remains unchanged.”