fortunes, and that kind of thing."
"Only came in yesterday? He's begun early. Perhaps we shall have to tell him what his fortune's likely to be."
When they reached the wards the keys were handed to the inspector, who in his turn tried his hand. A couple of locksmiths had been fetched up from the town. When the Major had tried two or three of the locks it was enough for him. He turned to the makers of locks.
"What's the matter with these locks?"
"Well, that's exactly what we can't make out. The keys go in all right, but they won't turn. Seems as though somebody had been having a lark with them."
"Can't you pick them?"
"They're not easy locks to pick, but we'll have a try!"
"Have a try!"
They had a try, but they tried in vain. As it happened, the cell on which they commenced operations was occupied by a gentleman who had had a considerable experience in picking locks-experience which had ended in placing him on the other side that door. He derided the locksmiths through the door.
"Well, you are a couple of keen ones! What, can't pick the lock! Why, there ain't a lock in England I couldn't pick with a bent 'airpin. I only wish you was this side, starving like I am, and I was where you are, it wouldn't be a lock that would keep me from giving you food."
This was not the sort of language Major Hardinge was accustomed to hear from the average prisoner, but the Major probably felt that on this occasion the candid proficient in the art of picking locks had a certain excuse. He addressed the baffled workmen.
"If you can't pick the lock, what can you do? The question is, what is the shortest way of getting inside that cell?"
"Get a watch-saw," cried the gentleman on the other side the door.
"And when you've got your watch-saw?" inquired the Major.
"Saw the whole lock right clean away. Lor' bless me! I only wish I was where you are, I'd show you a thing or two. It's as easy as winking. Here's all us chaps a-starving, all for want of a little hexperience!"
"A saw'll be no good," declared one of the locksmiths. "Neither a watch-saw nor any other kind of saw. How are you going to saw through those iron stanchions? You'll have to burst the door in, that's what it'll have to be."
"You won't find it an easy thing to do." This was from the governor.
"Why don't you take and blow the whole place up?" shouted a gentleman, also on the other side of the door, two or three cells off.
Long before this all the occupants of the corridor had been lending a very attentive ear to what was going on. The suggestion was received with roars of laughter. The Major, however, preferred to act upon the workmen's advice. A sledge hammer was sent for.
While they were awaiting its arrival something rather curious happened-curious, that is, viewed in the light of what had gone before. Warder Slater formed one of the party. More for the sake of something to do than anything else, he put his key into the lock of the cell which was just in front of him. Giving it a gentle twist, to his amazement it turned with the greatest ease, and the door was open.
"Here's a go!" he exclaimed. "Blest if this door ain't come open."
There was a yell of jubilation all along the corridor. The prisoners seemed to be amused. The official party kept silence. Possibly their feelings were too deep for words.
"Since we've got this one open," said Warder Slater, "suppose we try another?"
He tried another, the next; the same result followed-the door was opened with the greatest of ease.
"What's the meaning of this?" spluttered the Major. "Who's been playing this tomfoolery? I don't believe there's anything the matter with a lock in the place."
There did not seem to be, just then. For when the officers tried again they found no difficulty in unlocking the doors, and setting the prisoners free.
CHAPTER II
THE CHAPLAIN AS AN AUTHORITY ON
WITCHCRAFT
Major Hardinge remained in the jail that night. He stayed in the governor's house as Mr. Paley's guest. He expressed himself very strongly about the events of the day.
"I'll see the thing through if it takes me a week. The whole affair is incredible to me. It strikes me, Paley, that they've been making a fool of you."
The governor combed his hair with his fingers. His official manner had temporarily gone. He seemed depressed.
"I assure you the doors were locked."
"Of course the doors were locked, and they used the wrong keys to open them! It was a got-up thing."
"Not by the officers."
"By whom then? I don't see how the prisoners could have lent a hand."
"I know the officers, and I will answer for them, every man. As for the wrong keys being used, I know the keys as well as any one. I tried them, and not a lock would yield to me."
"But they did yield. What explanation have you to give of that?"
"I wish I could explain." And again the governor combed his hair.
"I'll have an explanation to-morrow! – you see if I don't!" But the Major never did.
On the morrow, punctually at 6 a.m., an imposing procession started to unlock. There were the inspector, governor, chief warder, second warder, and the warder who carried the keys.
"I don't think we shall have much difficulty in getting the men out of their cells this time," remarked the Major. They did not. "Good-good God!" he spluttered, when they reached the corridor; "what-what on earth's the meaning of this?" He had predicted rightly. They would have no difficulty in getting the men out of their cells: they were out already-men, and bedding, and planks, and all. There was a man fast asleep in bed in front of each cell-door.
"I thought I had given instructions that a special watch was to be kept all night," the Major roared.
"So there has been," answered the chief warder, whose head and face and neck were purple. "Warder Slater here has only just gone off duty. Now then, Slater, what's the meaning of this?"
"I don't know," protested Slater, whose mountain of flesh seemed quivering like jelly. "It's not a minute ago since I went to get my keys, and they was all inside their cells when I went down."
"Who let them out, then?"
The Major glared at him, incredulity in every line of his countenance.
"I don't know. I'll swear it wasn't me!"
"I suppose they let themselves out, then. You men!"
Although this short dialogue had been conducted by no means sotto-voce, the noise did not seem to have had the slightest effect in rousing the prisoners out of slumber. Even when the Major called to them they gave no sign.
"You men!" he shouted again; "it's no good shamming Abraham with me!" He stooped to shake the man who was lying on the plank at his feet. "Good-good God! The-the-man's
