When the evening came, Tom commenced operations. He applied the liquid as directed, which soon corroded the iron at the bottom. The sides and tops were more difficult, but their partial destruction was in time accomplished; and, when the eventful evening came, he had little difficulty in removing the grating. It was, of course, only injured at the ends; and, as the window was oblong, by altering the position of the grating, he obtained a substance sufficiently strong to which he attached the rope-ladder. Getting up to the window, he placed the grating reversed in the inside, and threw the ladder on the outside. To soften the fall of the iron after he had descended, he placed his mattress and bedclothes below; and having thus made every preliminary arrangement, with the first stroke of twelve he commenced his descent; and, ere the last had died upon the breeze, the ground was reached in safety.
A figure, enveloped in a cloak, approached hurriedly, and whispered, "follow!" He tossed a bundle to the fugitive, then turned to the left. The order was obeyed; and, after the lapse of an hour and a-half, Tom found himself in a wood, and the stranger, opening a dark lantern—sliding shades at the side of which had previously been pulled
down—disclosed to the eyes of Vallance the features of his agent, Mortlake.
The bundle was untied, and Tom found it to contain a capacious wrapper, a shawl, and bonnet with a veil. Those Tom was required to put on, and this matter being accomplished, the journey was resumed, and in about two hours they arrived at a small hamlet or village, where they found a gig waiting for them. Mortlake then addressed his companion:—"My dear Emily! be more composed—never mind your father—I will write to him, and all will yet be put to rights."
Tom, who had been previously instructed, spoke "small like a woman;" and, after some affected coyness, entered the carriage, when the parties drove off, leaving the man who had taken charge of the vehicle under the evident conviction that the strange man was a sad blackguard, and that the veiled lady was some unfortunate young woman who had been deluded away by his devices.
The news of Tom's escape excited universal astonishment, and no means were left untried to trace his footsteps; but every exertion was in vain, and his pursuers were completely at fault. It was universally admitted that some one must have furnished him with the implements that had procured his liberation; and his mother was, as a matter of course, the first one on whom suspicion lighted. The poor old woman, when the fact was announced, was equally amazed and pleased; but she could furnish no clue. Tom had seen a few people in prison, yet it was evident they had nothing to do with the escape. It was at last resolved that the agent was the accessory; but here the good people were at fault again, for no one, except the jailer, remembered having seen him, and he could give but a very imperfect description of him. He might be tall or so—rather think he was, but not sure—wore powder, and had, he believes, a black coat, but did not think he would know him again. This was all that could be elicited.
A reward of fifty pounds was offered by the magistrates for the capture of Tom; and Sir Edward Bruce Vavasour increased it to one hundred and fifty, expressing, at the same time, his anxiety that the accused should be retaken.
Whilst all were in a state of excitement, fresh fuel was added to the flame by the following letter, bearing the Liverpool post-mark, which Mrs Vallance received from her son:—
"Dearest Mother,—I am well, and as happy as one unjustly accused can be. Though fate has sundered us, you are ever in my thoughts. I have found a protector—fear not for me. You shall regularly hear from
"Your affectionate son," &c.
Beneath was written:—"Your son will be yet a blessing to you. Accept this trifle." And a twenty-pound-note was found enclosed.