Sandy passed within ten yards of me on
a mule--hunting for me, I imagined. But the thing which clean
broke my heart was something which happened in front of our old
barrack in a square, while we were enduring the spectacle of a man
being boiled to death in oil for counterfeiting pennies. It was
the sight of a newsboy--and I couldn't get at him! Still, I had
one comfort--here was proof that Clarence was still alive and
banging away. I meant to be with him before long; the thought was
full of cheer.
I had one little glimpse of another thing, one day, which gave me
a great uplift. It was a wire stretching from housetop to housetop.
Telegraph or telephone, sure. I did very much wish I had a little
piece of it. It was just what I needed, in order to carry out my
project of escape. My idea was to get loose some night, along with
the king, then gag and bind our master, change clothes with him,
batter him into the aspect of a stranger, hitch him to the slave-chain,
assume possession of the property, march to Camelot, and--
But you get my idea; you see what a stunning dramatic surprise
I would wind up with at the palace. It was all feasible, if
I could only get hold of a slender piece of iron which I could
shape into a lock-pick. I could then undo the lumbering padlocks
with which our chains were fastened, whenever I might choose.
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