“An’ I thanks God to get off’n him,” returned Bucknall, sliding to the ground with great alacrity. “And, harkee, Master Burnham, ye ain’t seen the last of me, yet, sir. I’ve got a few idees in my ol’ head, sir, an’ don’t you git ready for death too suddint like.” He turned and was gone. A short time brought me to du Trémigon’s house. He was waiting for me, wellnigh consumed with anxiety and curiosity. I do not care to go into the details of our interview that night. Suffice it to say, I felt entirely free to express my opinion of him and that I did so without let or hindrance. Of course, he carried out his part of the program, and at daybreak I found myself in prison facing charges of highway robbery and debts amounting to many thousand francs. But I was happy. I had hope of the love of the Countess and I didn’t care a rap for anything else. I felt that somehow, in some way, I should manage to get out. I was the most cheerful prisoner under such a heavy charge that ever occupied a cell. Confinement, I will admit, was a little wearing upon me. The first day passed, and then a second, without a sign from anybody. My examination was set for the morrow. The turnkey who brought me my supper slipped me a note. I was hungry enough—for the prison fare was scanty—but the note claimed my attention. It was in a woman’s hand, of course, and could come only from her, although it bore no crest and was not signed. The turnkey and the under-governor of the jail are bribed. Tonight, after supper, you will be removed to another cell. This overlooks the street. The bars of the window have been arranged so that they will come out at a touch. When the clock in the nearby church strikes twelve, a messenger and a horse will await you in the alley. The note stopped there, and then a few words had been added apparently as an afterthought: These presents from one who cares much what happens to you. If you have been in a like situation you can guess what happened then. When I was calmer I put the note carefully in my pocket and fell to my supper. I knew that I should need all my strength, and I was of a practical turn of mind even in the midst of my most romantic dreams. I had scarcely finished the poor provender when the turnkey re-entered. He was followed by a couple of other officials. The turnkey in a harsh manner, as if to impress the others, although he winked knowingly at me, said: “By the order of the commandant you are to be transferred to another cell.” “I do not wish to be transferred,” I returned hotly, to keep up the deception; “this cell suits me very well, and I am satisfied to remain here.” “Your wishes are not consulted in this matter,” he returned roughly. “You villain!” I cried, menacing him. “Have a care,” he answered; “if you don’t go peaceably we’ll have to take you by force. Here, men!”