Then, by way of turning the conversation, I inquired how he came to be provided with tools to effect his escape.
He looked at me suspiciously for a moment, as if he suspected me of some hidden motive in asking the question, and then, apparently satisfied with the scrutiny, he informed me that his friends had sent him pies every day for two weeks past.
“Pies?” I exclaimed, in open-mouthed wonder.
“Yes, pies,” he said, gravely. “Don’t you see? Nothing but the crusts. Inside were keys, saws and a jimmy.”
“A jimmy?”
“Yes—here it is. That came in four pies.”
He took from his coat-pocket four pieces of steel, and in an instant fitted them together into a bar about two feet in length.
“Not much to look at, is it?” said he; “but it is a crowbar, chisel, hammer and wrench, all in one. It only took me two nights to cut into your cell.”
“And how did you know your way out in the dark?” I asked.
“Because I came in that way, and I always keep my eyes open. Hello!”