, that they
may not look in upon me."

This unexpected prospect of deliverance created an anxious joy in the
breasts of the prisoners; the day appeared interminable. At last, the
shades of night set in, and a clouded sky with mizzling rain raised
their hopes. The square in front of the prison was deserted, and the
sentinel crouched close against the door, which partially protected him
from the weather. In a few minutes a person was heard in conversation
with the sentinel. "He must be coming now," observed Collins in a low
tone: "that must be one of his assistants who is taking off the
attention of the _gens d'arme_."

"Make no noise," said a voice in a whisper, at the outside of the bars.

"I am here," replied Collins softly.

"How can you get out of the prison?"

"Get the sentry out of the way when we leave off singing; the bars will
then be removed."

"Every thing is prepared outside. When you get out keep close under the
wall to the right. I shall be at the corner, if I am not here."

The freemason then retired from the grating.

"Now, Thompson, not too loud, there's no occasion for it; two of us can
work."

Thompson commenced his song; Newton took a small saw from Collins, who
directed him how to use it. The iron bars of the prison yielded like
wood to the fine-tempered instruments which Collins employed. In an
hour and a half three of the bars were removed without noise, and the
aperture was wide enough for their escape. The singing of Thompson,
whose voice was tolerably good and ear very correct, had not only the
effect of preventing their working being heard, but amused the sentinel,
who remained with his back to the wall listening to the melody.

Their work was so far accomplished. Thompson ceased, and all was
silence and anxiety; in a few minutes the sentinel was again heard in
conversation, and the voices receded, as if he had removed to a greater
distance.

"Now, brother," said the low voice under the aperture. In a minute the
whole of the prisoners were clear of the walls, and followed their guide
in silence, until they reached the landing-place.

"There is the boat, and provisions sufficient," said the freemason, in a
low tone; "you will have to pass the sentries on the rocks: but we can
do no more for you. Farewell, brother; and may you and your companions
be fortunate!" So saying, their friendly assistant disappeared.

The night was so dark, that although close to the boat it