"
"God bless you, if there be a God!" answered those haggard lips. "Ask
leave to go to the village to-morrow, and get me a file."
"Hush!--the warder."
The conversation thus interrupted was resumed next day.
"Here is the file," said Balfour; "hide it in your mattress. But, lad,
you will be mad to use it. I pray you be patient. It is only a
twelvemonth now."
Richard shook his head, with a ghastly smile. "I must try," said he.
"Nay, nay; you will be retaken and flogged, lad; think of that."
"I shall never be retaken, Balfour, at least alive."
It was easy enough to read in Richard's face the corroboration of his
words.
"Have you any plan?" asked the old man, disconsolately.
"I have. From my window here I see an open shed, with a coil of rope in
it. I shall file my bars, and get that rope to-night; climb back again
here, and over the roof. I have calculated the distance from outside. I
feel sure I can reach the parapet with my finger-tips as I stand upon
the window-ledge, then let myself down into the exercising-yard upon the
west side."
"The walls about that yard are sixty feet high, lad."
"There is a spout in the north corner which will help me up; and if I
reach the top without a broken neck, I make fast my rope, and slide on
to the moor.
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