own in that twenty years who in his despair ended his misery thus.

While wondering who the unfortunate could be I heard their steps
mounting the stairway leading to my landing, and then a sudden thrill
shot through me as they turned down the corridor toward my cell. My
heart stood still as I thought, could they be coming for me? I had a
sudden frenzy of fear that they might pass my door, but no, they came
straight on, halted, and Ross, a principal officer--I had known him
twenty years--gave a thundering rap on my door and shouted, "I want
you!" Then a key rattled in the lock, the door was thrown open and three
friendly faces looked in. Faint, deadly white, trembling like a
frightened child, I started to my feet trying to speak, but no sound
came from my lips for a moment. At last I stammered, "What's the
matter?" Ross thrust his form through the door, and with face close to
mine said the thrilling words, "You're free!" I cried, "I don't believe
you!" and Ross said: "Come on, my boy; it's all right."

Like one in a dream I passed out through the door of that little cell
whose grim, narrow walls had frowned on me for a score of years and had
in vain tried to crush my spirit.

Still like one in a dream I went down that long hall listening only to
the strange sound of my own footsteps and saying to myself: "It is all a
dream. I will awake, as I have from thousands of like dreams, and find
myself again in my dungeon."

I was led into the outer office, where some papers were read to me, and
then others given me to sign, but I listened or signed like one in a
maze. Suddenly I saw Ross thrust the key into the outer door. That
roused me, and the thought flashed into my mind, now I will see a star.

The heavy door rolled on its hinges, the ponderous gate was flung back.
Stepping out, I intuitively looked up, and a sudden awe fell upon me,
for there, like a revelation, shone the Milky Way, with its millioned
arch of radiant suns. At the sight of that miracle of glory, my heart
beat fast. I realized that I was free, with health and strength, with
courage to begin again the battle of life, and in my irrepressible
emotion I cried aloud, and my cry was like a prayer--"God is good."

[Illustration: A FIVE-POUND NOTE.

The counterfeit plate.]

End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Bidwell's Travels, from Wall Street to
London Prison, by Austin Biron Bidwell

*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BIDWELL'S TRAVELS ***