It will interest Americans, perhaps, to hear that the representations of the President and of the Secretary of State of the United States met the same courtesy as was shown to all the previous ones. Still, George was not discouraged. He sent agents to England, who managed to interest the newspapers in the matter, and never did he cease, until by the statements of the press upon the ferocity of my treatment, the reproaches of my friends and the representations of many I had never seen, including Lady Henry Somerset, Mrs. Helen Densmore (then residing in London) and the Duke of Norfolk, at last the Home Secretary felt the pressure, and all unwillingly--"much against his will," as he termed it--was forced to order my release. * * * * * "Thou shalt forget thy misery and remember it as waters that pass away." Twenty years had passed away since I had bade my friends good-bye under the Old Bailey, and now 1893 had come. It was a frosty February night, and I was alone in that little room with its arched roof and stone floor. It was past 7 o'clock, and the prison gloom and stillness had settled down on all the inmates, when suddenly there came the noise of hurrying feet that echoed strangely from the arched roof as the warders tramped loudly on the stone floor of the long hall. A rush of feet, or, indeed, anything that broke the horrible stillness at that hour, was startling. They were the feet of the reserve guard, which was never called in save when the patrol who glided around the corridors in slippered feet discovered some suicide. Many a heartbroken man had I known 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.