"Only Willie Shimmin, the turnkey, and he's a drunken gommeral, always wanting out, and never sure of coming back at all."
"What about your female warder?"
"Mrs. Mylrea? A dying woman, Sir. Not been here since the trial, and if it wasn't for Miss Stanley...."
"Does she come often?"
"Nearly every day now, Sir."
At that moment there was the clang of a bell.
"There she is, I'll go bail," said the jailer, and snatching a big key from the keyboard he turned to go.
In the collapse of his better nature Stowell was afraid to meet Fenella, knowing well she would see through him.
"Don't trouble about me, or mention that I'm here," he said, and picking up his lantern he made a show of going on with his researches.
But as soon as the jailer had disappeared he turned rapidly to the Deemster's door and had opened it and stepped out and closed it behind him, before the jailer and Fenella (whose voices he could hear) had emerged from the Portcullis into the court-yard.