“Umph,” said Throckle, as if in doubt; “it’s a plaguey long stair to climb, and I may not get hands to help me. But, nathless, I’ll see what may be done. Wat Withe may peraunter——”
“Come, come,” cried Proudfoot, impatiently, “we are wanted ere this. Off, I say—off;” and with these words they all four left the prison; the door was bolted and barred with the utmost precaution, and their heavy lumbering steps were heard retreating along the passages.
It was strange perhaps, but it was most true, that the shutting of the rusty bolts sounded almost as sweetly in Assueton’s ear as if they had been opened to give him liberty. The relief he felt at the retreat of the four men was so great, that, like a pious knight, he knelt down and offered up his heartfelt gratitude, in fervent thanksgivings to Heaven, that his plans were as yet unfrustrated. He took up the food that had been left with him, and made a hearty and cheerful meal. He then began turning in his mind the circumstances that were likely to occur to him before night, and again some cruel anticipations obtruded themselves. Were Throckle to return to remove the body, perhaps it might be of little consequence; but if, as he seemed to hint at when he was interrupted—if he should call in the aid of Wat Withe, as they had nicknamed the executioner, then all his schemes for escape must be ruined. Nay, what if the coil of rope, the villain had so hastily taken, should happen to be wanted before night for the purpose it had been originally intended for? The thought was most alarming. Assueton immediately removed the straw from it, that he might examine it narrowly, and his mind was very much relieved when he discovered that it was everywhere quite rough and new, as if it had never been used. But still nothing presented itself to him, to rid him of the apprehension of the return of Wat Withe, who could not fail to mark the disappearance of the coil. A thousand times during the day he fancied he heard steps approaching, and more than once he grasped his dagger to prepare for bloody work. But it was all fancy. The only sound he heard was that of the trampling of horses, the jingling of bridles, and the clattering [[153]]of weapons, mingled with the voices of men, as if some party was riding forth.
CHAPTER XX.
A Dreadful Situation—Daniel Throckle the old Jailor.
The time passed slowly and heavily until within about an hour of nightfall, when steps were again distinctly heard approaching Assueton’s prison. Much to his relief, however, they seemed to be those of a single person; something was put down on the pavement on the outside; the bolts were tardily withdrawn, and the great head of Daniel Throckle alone appeared through the partially opened door, as if to ascertain in what part of the chamber his prisoner was, ere he should venture farther. Seeing Assueton seated as formerly, on the straw, he hastily pushed within the door-way vessels containing food and drink, as before, and instantly retreating, turned the bolts behind him, and departed without uttering a word.
Now Assueton’s hopes beat high, and again on his knees he returned his fervent thanks to Heaven. He then determined to avail himself of the small portion of day-light which yet remained, to make everything ready for his escape.
Disgusting and revolting as it had been to him, on the first discovery of the murdered body, that it should have been left as his nightly and daily companion, he had now good reason to be glad that it had been so; for even if its removal had not occasioned the discovery of his appropriation of the coil of rope, without it he could have had no means of reaching the ring in the centre of the vault, the only thing within it to which he could have attached the end of his rope, and it would have been there only to have mocked his hopes.
After he had succeeded in making it fast, he had still an appalling difficulty before him; for the window was so high above the floor of the vault that it was quite beyond all reach. There was, to be sure, a small fragment of rusty iron, that projected an inch or two from the centre of the sole of it, like the decayed remains of a stanchion, that had once divided the space vertically within; but it was little better than a knob. It yet remained to be proved, therefore, whether he should succeed in throwing a part of his rope over this frail pin of iron, so as to furnish him with the means of pulling himself up to the window; and he lost no time in making the experiment. But this, so [[154]]absolutely essential part of his operations, he found most difficult to effect. He threw, cast, and jerked the rope, trying every possible way he could think of; but the piece of iron was so short that, although he often succeeded in throwing the rope over it, he could never manage to make it hold. The day-light ebbed away fast, and still he laboured, but without success. At length he grew desperate, and threw the rope up time after time with mad and senseless rapidity. It became darker and darker till pitchy night closed in, yet still he persevered in throwing furiously and at random; but it was the perseverance of despair, all attempt at skill being utterly abandoned. At length, when he had almost become frantic, it caught as he pulled back after an accidental throw; he felt it hold against him, and keeping it down to the floor tight with one foot, to prevent it from slipping, he laid the whole weight of the coil upon it, and then, dropping on his knees, returned thanks to Heaven for his success. It was but a small matter throwing a coil of rope over a projecting fragment of iron; yet on that trifle depended all his hopes, for by means of that small piece of iron alone could he escape.