Kate Leary, wife of "Red" Leary, the bank burglar, was coming to see me soon—so the note said. I was to have my plans for escape all ready to discuss with her.
Now, the only way of getting out of my prison I had been able to discover was through a door which led from a little used passageway in the basement of the matron's house to a point just outside the prison walls.
This door—a massive, iron-barred affair—was seldom if ever opened. The big brass key which unlocked it hung with other keys from a ring suspended at the matron's belt.
Kate Leary could easily have a duplicate of that key made, but first I must secure a model of the original. This wasn't a difficult task—I had often done similar tricks to aid my husband in his bank robberies. I slipped into the matron's room while she was taking a nap and took a careful impression of the key on a piece of wax.
In due time Kate Leary brought the key which had been carefully made from my wax model. At the first opportunity I tried it—it fitted the rusty old lock perfectly! Hiding the key away as carefully as I ever hid any stolen diamonds, I waited impatiently for the night set for my escape.
It came at last. Between 6 and 7 o'clock was the hour, because then my household duties frequently took me into the vicinity of the basement door. It was a crisp December evening. It had snowed heavily all day, and it was still snowing and was growing colder.
About 6:30 I heard a peculiar low whistle. That was the signal that the pair of horses and the sleigh which were to carry me away were waiting outside.
There was, of course, no opportunity to get my hat and coat. Luckily I was all alone in the lower house—upstairs I could hear the matron and her family laughing and talking over their dinner.
Putting down the tray of dishes I was carrying I snatched the key from its hiding place under a flour barrel and hurried noiselessly along the dark passageway to the door that led to liberty.