ot read it by very
insight. He turned a hundred times in alarm to see if the Warder's eyes
were on its hiding-place. Who had written it? Was it a plan of escape?
Perhaps it was only a word of empty sympathy; but no, Reynolds was a
practical man.

Oh, how long the hours were, till at last the prison-bell rang at six
o'clock, and the gangs all over the farm formed into little squads and
marched toward the prison, the warders drawing after them the light iron
bridges of the canals, which were locked on one side every night. By
this means "The Farm," which was intersected by a score of these wide
and deep trenches, was impassable; and as it hemmed in one side of the
hill on which the prison stood, with a guard tower on either end, it was
a greater safeguard even than the wall of the prison.

The four political prisoners marched into the yard. The Warder, before
locking them up, made each one raise his arms and stand to be searched.
He then ran his hands lengthwise over the whole man, mainly to see that
no weapons or tools were concealed. As his hand passed over the letter
in the stocking Geoffrey closed his eyes in the tense pain of anxiety.
He did not breathe till he stood in his narrow cell and had closed the
self-locking door with a bang. Then he sat down on his hammock and
hugged himself with joy.

When all was quiet on the long corridor and the prisoners were eating
their meagre supper Geoffrey drew out his letter and broke the outer
cover. It was addressed in a hand he had never seen before--a plain,
business-like hand:

"To Mr. Geoffrey Ripon, or any of the Royalist prisoners."

"No more titles," mused Geoffrey with a smile; "there is something
American in the 'Mr.'"

This thought naturally led him to think of one in America whose
handwriting he had blindly and unreasonably hoped to see in this letter.
Now, with a sigh, he saw that it was not for him alone, but for "any of
the Royalist prisoners" as well.

The letter was written on small sheets, joined at the top by a thin
brass holder. From the first word it was a plan to escape from Dartmoor
and from England. It showed that everything had been carefully examined
and considered by those outside before they had attempted to communicate
with the prisoners; and all that remained must be done by those within
the prison. The letter ran thus:

"We have arranged everything but your actual getting out of the
prison and crossing the marsh at the foot of