"What, turning soft-hearted?" answered the schoolmaster, who had already pushed half up the stairway. He picked up a lantern from the wall.
"Leave the poor lad alone," said the jailer, gruffly.
By this time the sound of Mr. Anderson's heels was echoing down the corridor. He held the lantern above his head, and a look of astonishment spread over his features.
He retraced his steps to where the jailer stood, leaning against the wall, his hands outstretched for support.
"You may save your pity and your solicitude," said Mr. Anderson, banging up the lantern. "There will be some reckoning made for this condition of affairs to-night."
"What? What?" stammered the jailer.
"Mark what I say," went on the schoolmaster, looking the other squarely in the face with his twinkling ferretlike eyes. "Your prisoner has escaped. You careless sluggard!"
Of course all this requires an explanation.
It had been a momentous day for the prisoner in the little cell. The signal, as agreed upon in another cipher letter which had been smuggled in to him, was this: If the bars were ready to be misplaced he would put two crusts of bread outside the doorway of his cell; if for any reason the time should be postponed, only one would be placed on the flagging. Some one on an ostensible visit to another part of the jail would be on the lookout for this simple sign. It happened that just before this visit was paid, the under jailer, unseen, swept away one of the crusts of bread, so the signal appeared to read for the following night.
The bars, however, were ready to be removed. It would take but a slight exertion to make a hole large enough for him to draw his body through. But how to escape from the door below or to pass the sentry at the gateway?