d Geoffrey told him the whole story, in a
whisper, as they walked.

"Can it be done?" asked Featherstone.

"Yes, I think so. At any rate, we must try."

"What is your plan?"

"We must escape from the guards outside the prison," said Geoffrey,
looking down at Sydney and the Duke, who were doing cyclopean work under
the eye of the Warder. "Those two could never escape from the cells, nor
climb the walls if they did."

"True," answered Featherstone, with a despondent manner; "but we are no
nearer freedom than ever, if we have no definite plan."

"I have a definite plan," said Geoffrey, "and I think a good one. We
must remain outside some evening when the convicts march in. On every
evening but Wednesday and Saturday we go straight to our cells when we
go in from work, and we close our own doors, so that if we remained
outside on any evening but those two we should be instantly missed. On
Wednesday and Saturday evenings the prisoners are taken off work one
hour earlier and are sent to school. We want at least an hour's start
for the sake of those two; you and I could do with half the time.
Therefore we must remain behind on one of those two days."

"But how?" asked Featherstone, impatiently. "The Warder walks beside
us."

"We must manage to send him off or have him called away," answered
Geoffrey. "Can it be done?"

Featherstone did not answer. He went on working; he even spoke about
other things, as if he had not heard Geoffrey's question. In about half
an hour he said:

"I think it cannot be done. What do you think?"

"I think so too," said Geoffrey.

"So that, even with our friends waiting for us, we are tied hand and
foot."

"No," said Geoffrey, with a smile at his friend's gloom; "but that is
just what the Warder must say."

"What! Seize him and tie him up?" asked Featherstone, with a flash in
his eyes that made the shaven prisoner a soldier again. "Bravo, Ripon!
It can be done. What a mole I am."

"Do you think it can be managed without hurting the poor devil? With all
his loud talk he has been kind to those two old friends. Just look at
them now, pretending to turn that wheel, with no rope on the windlass,
and he looking on! I don't want to harm him, Featherstone."

"No, nor I. But we can take him gently and swiftly and gag him. That
won't hurt him, will it?"

"No; but should he make a noise?"

"Trust me, Ripon; I could strangle him with one hand. I shall simply
hold him by the throat while S