I made my way through the crowd to the Golden Prison, and here a light dawned, and many things became clear to me. A crowd of people were standing at what appeared to me to be a hole in the ground, about sixty yards from the wall of the prison. I edged myself through the lookers-on till I had reached the hole; it was one end of a subterranean passage, the other end of which doubtless emerged—but a sick qualm came over me, and to make matters worse at this moment I espied—and was seen by—Roche the turnkey. He was looking very small, but assumed an air of bluster when he perceived me. “Arrest that young chap there,” he ordered his assistants. “He was a helping o’ they sneaking scoundrels; I see un.” In another moment the two men had me in tow, and being also propelled by the crowd in a few minutes, I found myself inside the Golden Prison. I did not find the place at all entertaining this time. However, there were some magistrates there, and one of them, a Dr. Mansell, ordered the men to loose their hold while he questioned me. I told all I knew, and at the end was relieved, but mortified to hear him say, “There is no occasion to detain him, the boy evidently knew nothing about it. He was a young ass, but he is not the first of us who has been befooled by a woman.” At this there was a general guffaw in which I tried to join, but I felt as small as Roche the turnkey. It appeared that all those pails and bundles had been full of earth, stones, and mortar, which the men had scraped out in making the tunnel. I went into the little inner room, and there in the floor, just behind where Pierre Lebrun used to sit, surrounded with bundles of straw, blocks of wood, etc., was the other end of the subterranean passage. They had absolutely scratched through the thick wall of the prison, and then grubbed like moles through sixty yards of earth, with no other implement than the bones of horses’ legs. I did not care for the remarks of the bystanders, and I got out of that gaol as quickly as I could, but not before Dr. Mansell had asked me another question or two. “I hear Frances Martin has absconded,” he said. “Can you tell me anything about Eleanor? She lives with your aunts, I think.” “She is not to be found, sir,” I answered. “She is off with Jack, no doubt.” “Jack?” “Mounseer Jacques Roux, the engineer.” “Ah, the fellow who managed the tunnelling. Why do you pitch upon him?” “I didn’t—she did, because he used to kiss her.” “Kiss! By George, didn’t that rouse your suspicions?” cried the doctor. “No, sir, they said it was the French way of shaking hands.” “Go along, softy!” cried the crowd, and I went. But as I went I heard the stentorian voice of Dr. Mansell proclaim— “Five hundred guineas reward for the recovery of those two young women, dead or alive!”