At first Conyngham demurred, but the Frenchman was insistent, and so the next night and the next transfers were made unobserved in the jail-yard, and the captain secreted the clothing inside the mattress upon which he slept on the floor of his cell. From another prisoner a hat was obtained almost like the heavy three-cornered affair that the visiting doctor wore. A book was procured somewhat resembling the doctor’s. Saturday evening was set for a trial of the plan. Conyngham was most anxious to get away. He had, by his trick of reading people’s lips, discovered that there was a plot on foot to convict him if possible of the charge that hung over his head. A man had been found who swore that he had known him in Ireland, and another who had positively identified him as his brother. If they could prove the contention that he was a British subject he would have short shrift of it, so it behooved him not to put off long the attempted escape. Saturday afternoon at about five o’clock the prisoners were released in batches of ten or a dozen for exercise in the courtyard. When the door of Conyngham’s cell was opened he feigned indisposition, and asked only to be allowed to sit in the doorway where he could breathe the fresher air; but no sooner had the turnkey left than he quickly donned the Frenchman’s black small-clothes and the long coat, and putting on the spectacles and the big hat he stepped out into the corridor that opened into the yard. Imitating carefully the doctor’s step and holding the book under his arm, instead of turning to the left he went down the corridor to the right, at the end of which stood the first sentry at the entrance to the guard-room. It was dark in the corridor, and what light there was came from behind him. The sentry hardly looked at him; turning the key and pulling the bolt, he let him pass.