Part 20 (1/2)
”Well, what conclusions do you arrive at?” they asked, when he leapt down from his seat.
”They are not very cheering,” he replied, ”and I recognize fully that we cannot possibly make our escape, without aid from without.”
”That is the same as to say that we cannot make our escape at all.”
”Not exactly. We have found one unknown friend, who supplied us with our dinners. There is no absolute reason why we should not find one who would supply us with means of escape. There must be a great number of people who sympathize with us, and whose hearts are with King James. I have seen several men come from the market, stand and look up at this prison, and then walk off, slowly, as if they were filled with pity for us. Now, I propose that one of us shall always be at the window.”
”Oh, that is too much!” O'Sullivan said. ”That ledge is so narrow that I could hardly sit there, even holding on by the bars; and as to stopping there half an hour, I would almost as soon be on the rack.”
”There will be no occasion for that,” Desmond said. ”We can easily move one of the pallets under it, pile the other straw beds upon it, and, standing on these, we could look out comfortably, for our shoulders would be well above the ledge.”
”I don't see that we should be nearer to it, then, Kennedy.”
”We should have gained this much: that directly we saw any person looking up, with a sympathizing air, especially if of a cla.s.s who could afford to do what is necessary for us, we could wave our hands and attract his attention. If disposed to help us, he might give some sign. If not, no harm would be done. We might, too, tie a handkerchief to the bars, which in itself might be taken for an indication that there are followers of the Stuarts here.”
”But supposing all this turned out as you suggest it might, how could even the best disposed friend do anything to help us?”
”That is for after consideration. Let us first find a friend, and we shall find a way to open communication with him. We have no paper, but we could write the message on a piece of linen and drop it down. As far as we can see, from here, there is nothing to prevent anyone coming up to the foot of the wall below us.”
For the next four days, nothing whatever happened. They could see that the white handkerchief at the bars attracted some attention, for people stopped and looked up at it, but continued their way without making any gesture that would seem to show that they interested themselves, in any way, in the matter.
On the fourth day, Desmond, who was at the window, said in a tone of excitement:
”There is a man down there who, after looking fixedly in this direction, is making his way towards us. He does not come straight, but moves about among the houses; but he continues to approach. I can't make out his face yet, but there is something about him that reminds me of Mike; though how he could be here, when we left him in the prison at Harwich, is more than I can say.”
O'Neil and O'Sullivan in turn looked through the window. Not being so much accustomed as he was to Mike's figure and walk, they could not recognize in the man, in the dress of a country peasant, the well-set-up soldier who attended on Desmond. Both admitted, however, that in point of figure it might well be the man.
”If it is,” Desmond said, ”all our difficulties are at an end, and I will wager that we shall be free in three or four days. Now, how are we to communicate with him?”
”I have a piece of paper in my pocket. It is only an old bill, and they threw it down, contemptuously, when they searched me,” O'Neil said. ”I picked it up again. I hardly know why, except perhaps that the idea occurred to me that, some day, I might get a chance of paying it. But as we have no ink, nor pen, nor charcoal, I don't see how it can benefit us.”
He drew the bill from the pocket of his coatee. Desmond took it, and stood looking at it in silence for a minute. Then an idea occurred to him.
”I have it!” he exclaimed, presently. ”O'Neil, see if you can get a piece of this gold wire off my facings. I want it five or six inches long, so that when it is doubled up and twisted together, so as to be an inch long, it will be stiff enough for our purpose.”
Somewhat puzzled, O'Neil did as he was requested. Desmond straightened out the fine wire wrapped round the centre thread, doubled, and again doubled it, and finally twisting it together, reduced it to a length of about an inch, and the thickness of a pin. The others looked on, wondering what was his intention.
He held the paper out before him, and began p.r.i.c.king small holes through it, close together. He continued to work for some time, and then held it up to the light. The others understood the nature of his work, and they could now read:
Come ten tonight under window. Bring long thin string. Whistle. We will lower thread. Tie end of string to it. Will give further instructions.
He tore off the portion of the bill on which the message was written, twisted off two of the b.u.t.tons of his coatee, folded them in the paper, and took his place at the window again. The man who had been watching was standing some sixty feet from the foot of the wall. His back was towards them. Presently he turned, carelessly looked up at the window, and then, as if undecided what to do, took off his cap and scratched his head.
”It is Mike, sure enough,” Desmond exclaimed, and, thrusting his hand through the bars, waved it for a moment.
Then, taking the little packet, he dropped it. Mike put on his hat again, turned round, then looked cautiously to see that no one was noticing him, and strolled, in an aimless and leisurely way, towards the wall. Desmond could no longer see him, but felt sure that he would find the missive.
Presently he came in sight again, walking quietly away. He did not look round; but when nearly at the bottom of the hill turned, lifted one hand, and disappeared behind some houses.
”He can't read,” Desmond said, ”but I have no doubt he will get someone to do it for him.”