the fog. Then, feeling sure that the chances were at the best for his
escape, he let himself down knot by knot, hanging between earth and
sky, and clinging to his rope with the strength of a giant. All was
well. At the last knot but one, just as he was about to let himself
drop, a prudent impulse led him to feel for the ground with his feet,
and he found no footing. The predicament was awkward for a man bathed
in sweat, tired, and perplexed, and in a position where his life was
at stake on even chances. He was about to risk it, when a trivial
incident stopped him; his hat fell off; happily, he listened for the
noise it must make in striking the ground, and he heard not a sound.

"The prisoner felt vaguely suspicious as to this state of affairs. He
began to wonder whether the Commandant had not laid a trap for him
--but if so, why? Torn by doubts, he almost resolved to postpone the
attempt till another night. At any rate, he would wait for the first
gleam of day, when it would still not be impossible to escape. His
great strength enabled him to climb up again to his window; still, he
was almost exhausted by the time he gained the sill, where he crouched
on the lookout, exactly like a cat on the parapet of a gutter. Before
long, by the pale light of dawn, he perceived as he waved the rope
that there was a little interval of a hundred feet between the lowest
knot and the pointed rocks below.

"'Thank you, my friend, the Governor!' said he, with characteristic
coolness. Then, after a brief meditation on this skilfully-planned
revenge, he thought it wise to return to his cell.

"He laid his outer clothes conspicuously on the bed, left the rope
outside to make it seem that he had fallen, and hid himself behind the
door to await the arrival of the treacherous turnkey, arming himself