"That is the crime with which we are charged." "Well, I must say you disappoint me. I had always hoped for something better in the way of burglars. I hope you won't be offended but really, you know, you don't look DESPERATE enough." "It's our first offence," said Mr. Daddles. "That's what I thought," said the stranger heartily, "but I didn't like to say so,--for fear of hurting your feelings. Cheer up,-- you'll improve as time goes on." "Have you been here long?" I asked. "Came in yesterday,--or day before yesterday, rather. We were in that black sloop,--perhaps you noticed her? You were in the white cat-boat, weren't you? We saw you when you came in." "Did you see her go out?" We all asked this eagerly. "No,--has she gone out? We were on board our boat all the afternoon,--down in the cabin, I guess. Wish I'd stayed there. But we had the tent,--one of the fellows likes to sleep on shore, and so we all stayed. Say, this is a little bit of Russia, isn't it? Eb could give the Czar points. This is a new police-station, and he thought it ought not get rusty." "Find your quarters comfortable over there?" asked Mr. Daddles across the corridor. "Great!" said Ed Mason. He had already taken off his coat, rolled it up for a pillow, and lain down on one of the wooden benches in our cell. I was preparing to do the same. Upstairs we heard the front door slam, as Justin, and the last of the "possy," left the police-station. "S-s-s-t!" This came from the banjo-player's cell. "Watch this, boys!" I looked out the barred door of our cell, and so did Mr. Daddles and Jimmy from theirs, on the other side of the corridor. The banjo-player, holding his instrument by the head, was poking the neck of it through his door. Very carefully he managed it, and I soon saw what he was after. The big key, hanging on the wall under the lamp, was just within his reach. With the utmost care he inserted one of the keys of the banjo in the ring of the cell key, and drew it off the hook. Then holding the banjo very delicately he pulled it slowly inside the cell, until he had the key in his hands. Then he grinned out at us. "Talk about Baron Trenck and Monte Cristo!" he said. In a second more he had put one hand through the bars of his cell, put the key into the lock and let himself out. "What's the matter with this,--hey, what? Another chapter in Celebrated Escapes!" Then he tip-toed back into his cell, and shut the door again. "It won't do to go upstairs too soon. I'll give 'em time to get home. Then I'll get the keys to your cells,--never shall it be said of Despard D'Auvigny that he deserted his friends in misfortune! A regular jail-delivery,--what? The destruction of the Bastille was nothing to this! And we'll carry Eb's head on a pike." "What!" exclaimed Mr. Daddles, "I never thought of that! Do you suppose the keys to our cells are upstairs? I thought you were the only one to get anything by this,--I was resolving always to carry a banjo with me."