quickly despatched--the latter being the alternative most generally
adopted. It was for this reason that, the moment I was arrested, I began
to think how I could escape. As neither opening the door nor breaking the
bars seemed immediately feasible, the idea of bribing the turnkey
naturally occurred to me. Thanks to the precaution suggested by Mr. Van
Voorst, I had several gold pieces in my belt. But though the fellow would
no doubt accept my money, what security had I that he would keep his word?
And how, even if he were to leave the door open, should I evade the
vigilance of the sentries and the soldiers who were always loitering in
the _patio_?

On the whole, I thought the best thing I could do was to wait quietly
until the morrow. The night is often fruitful in ideas. I might be
acquitted, after all, and if I attempted to bribe the turnkey before my
examination, and he should betray me to his superiors, my condemnation
would be a foregone conclusion. The mere attempt would be regarded as an
admission of guilt.

A while later, the zambo turnkey (half Indian, half negro) brought me my
evening meal--a loaf of bread and a small bottle of wine--and I studied
his countenance closely. It was both treacherous and truculent, and I felt
that if I trusted him he would be sure to play me false.

As it was near sunset I asked for a light, and tried to engage him in
conversation. But the attempt failed. He answered surlily, that a dark
room was quite good enough for a damned rebel, and left me to myself.

When it became too dark to walk about, I lay down in the hammock and was
soon in the land of dreams; for I was young and sanguine, and though I
could not help feeling somewhat anxious, it was not the sort of anxiety