teway and in the _patio_, I concluded that, besides
serving as a jail, it was used also as a military post. Even though I
might get out, I should not find it very easy to get away. And what were
my chances of getting out? As yet they seemed exceedingly remote. The only
possible exits were the door and the window. The door was both locked and
bolted, and either to open or make an opening in it I should want a brace
and bit and a saw, and several hours freedom from intrusion. It would be
easier to cut the bars--if I possessed a file or a suitable saw. I had my
knife, and with time and patience I might possibly fashion a tool that
would answer the purpose.

But time was just what I might not be able to command. I had heard that
the sole merit of the military tribunal was its promptitude; it never kept
its victims long in suspense; they were either quickly released or as
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 ha