I arose unusually early that Tuesday morning and worked unusually hard—to hide my nervousness.
Nothing out of the ordinary happened to relieve the awful tension. Early in the morning I heard from one of the other prisoners that the Warden and his assistants had gone away for the day. This, of course, coincided with Ned's plans, but it brought me little relief, for I feared that perhaps the officers left in charge might, in the absence of their superiors, be unusually careful in guarding their convict charges.
Noon came and went and still I heard nothing to relieve my anxiety. "No news is good news," I kept saying to myself, and in this case the old adage really spoke the truth. If there was no excitement about the prison it was good evidence that Ned's absence had not been noted. And if they did not discover his absence until they came to lock the prisoners up for the night all was well, for by that time I knew Ned would be safe in his old haunts on the East Side, in New York City.
But there still remained the discouraging possibility that at the last minute some of his plans had miscarried and he had been obliged to postpone the attempt.
Night came and I was setting the table for the evening meal when I heard the sounds of some unusual excitement over in the men's prison, across the road. There was much running to and fro, keepers were shouting to each other and presently the prison bell began to ring frantically. The sound of the bell made my heart jump—it was never rung, I knew, except in case of fire or when a prisoner escaped.
"What on earth is that bell ringing for?" said the matron. I was just saying that I didn't know and was trying to hide my excitement when in rushed Dr. Collins, all breathless and worried.
"Heard the news?" he shouted. And before the matron could say yes or no out he burst with the whole story.
"Ned Lyons, the bank robber, has escaped!" he said. "He's been gone since noon and they never knew it until just now, when they went to lock him in his cell and found nothing there but his suit of stripes. It's the boldest escape there's been in years.
"According to all accounts he walked right out of the main gate, stepped into a buggy that was waiting, and drove off like a gentleman. Of course he was disguised, and so cleverly they say that one of the head gatekeepers bowed to him at the gate, thinking he was a member of that new legislative commission from Albany."
A great weight rolled from my heart—Ned was free! I managed to control my feelings and it was lucky I did, for the next instant I saw the matron point a warning finger in my direction, and at that the doctor lowered his voice so that I could hear no more.