The Autobiography of a Quack [16]
a pause he said: ``Well, doctor, you know a poor devil in my fix will clutch at straws. Hope I have not offended you.''
``Not in the least,'' returned the doctor. ``Shall I send you Mr. Smith?'' This was my present name; in fact, I was known as the Rev. Eliphalet Smith.
``I would like it,'' answered File; ``but as you go out, tell the warden I want to see him immediately about a matter of great importance.''
At this stage I began to apprehend very distinctly that the time had arrived when it would be wiser for me to delay escape no longer. Accordingly, I waited until I heard the doctor rise, and at once stepped quietly away to the far end of the corridor. I had scarcely reached it when the door which closed it was opened by a turnkey who had come to relieve the doctor and let me into the cell. Of course my peril was imminent. If the turnkey mentioned my near presence to the prisoner, immediate disclosure would follow. If some lapse of time were secured before the warden obeyed the request from File that he should visit him, I might gain thus a much- needed hour, but hardly more. I therefore said to the officer: ``Tell the warden that the doctor wishes to remain an hour longer with the prisoner, and that I shall return myself at the end of that time.''
``Very good, sir,'' said the turnkey, allowing me to pass out, and, as he followed me, relocking the door of the corridor. ``I'll tell him,'' he said. It is needless to repeat that I never had the least idea of carrying out the ridiculous scheme with which I had deluded File and Stagers, but so far Stagers's watchfulness had given me no chance to escape.
In a few moments I was outside of the jail gate, and saw my fellow-clergyman, Mr. Stagers, in full broadcloth and white tie, coming down the street toward me. As usual, he was on his guard; but this time he had to deal with a man grown perfectly desperate, with everything to win and nothing to lose. My plans were made, and, wild as they were, I thought them worth the trying. I must evade this man's terrible watch. How keen it was, you cannot imagine; but it was aided by three of the infamous gang to which File had belonged, for without these spies no one person could possibly have sustained so perfect a system.
I took Stagers's arm. ``What time,'' said I, ``does the first train start for Dayton?''
``At twelve. What do you want?''
``How far is it?''
``About fifteen miles,'' he replied.
``Good. I can get back by eight o'clock to-night.''
``Easily,'' said Stagers, ``if you go. What do you want?''
``I want a smaller tube to put in the wind- pipe--must have it, in fact.''
``Well, I don't like it,'' said he, ``but the thing's got to go through somehow. If you must go, I will go along myself. Can't lose sight of you, doc, just at present. You're monstrous precious. Did you tell File?''
``Yes,'' said I; ``he's all right. Come. We've no time to lose.''
Nor had we. Within twenty minutes we were seated in the last car of a long train, and running at the rate of twenty miles an hour toward Dayton. In about ten minutes I asked Stagers for a cigar.
``Can't smoke here,'' said he.
``No,'' I answered; ``of course not. I'll go forward into the smoking-car.''
``Come along,'' said he, and we went through the train.
I was not sorry he had gone with me when I found in the smoking-car one of the spies who had been watching me so constantly. Stagers nodded to him and grinned at me, and we sat down together.
``Chut!'' said I, ``left my cigar on the window-ledge in the hindmost car. Be back in a moment.''
This time, for a wonder, Stagers allowed me to leave unaccompanied. I hastened through to the nearer end of the hindmost car, and stood on the platform. I instantly cut the signal-cord. Then I knelt down, and, waiting until the two cars ran together, I tugged at the connecting-pin. As the cars came together, I could lift it a little, then as the strain came on the coupling the pin held fast. At last I made a great effort, and out it came. The car I was on instantly lost speed, and there
``Not in the least,'' returned the doctor. ``Shall I send you Mr. Smith?'' This was my present name; in fact, I was known as the Rev. Eliphalet Smith.
``I would like it,'' answered File; ``but as you go out, tell the warden I want to see him immediately about a matter of great importance.''
At this stage I began to apprehend very distinctly that the time had arrived when it would be wiser for me to delay escape no longer. Accordingly, I waited until I heard the doctor rise, and at once stepped quietly away to the far end of the corridor. I had scarcely reached it when the door which closed it was opened by a turnkey who had come to relieve the doctor and let me into the cell. Of course my peril was imminent. If the turnkey mentioned my near presence to the prisoner, immediate disclosure would follow. If some lapse of time were secured before the warden obeyed the request from File that he should visit him, I might gain thus a much- needed hour, but hardly more. I therefore said to the officer: ``Tell the warden that the doctor wishes to remain an hour longer with the prisoner, and that I shall return myself at the end of that time.''
``Very good, sir,'' said the turnkey, allowing me to pass out, and, as he followed me, relocking the door of the corridor. ``I'll tell him,'' he said. It is needless to repeat that I never had the least idea of carrying out the ridiculous scheme with which I had deluded File and Stagers, but so far Stagers's watchfulness had given me no chance to escape.
In a few moments I was outside of the jail gate, and saw my fellow-clergyman, Mr. Stagers, in full broadcloth and white tie, coming down the street toward me. As usual, he was on his guard; but this time he had to deal with a man grown perfectly desperate, with everything to win and nothing to lose. My plans were made, and, wild as they were, I thought them worth the trying. I must evade this man's terrible watch. How keen it was, you cannot imagine; but it was aided by three of the infamous gang to which File had belonged, for without these spies no one person could possibly have sustained so perfect a system.
I took Stagers's arm. ``What time,'' said I, ``does the first train start for Dayton?''
``At twelve. What do you want?''
``How far is it?''
``About fifteen miles,'' he replied.
``Good. I can get back by eight o'clock to-night.''
``Easily,'' said Stagers, ``if you go. What do you want?''
``I want a smaller tube to put in the wind- pipe--must have it, in fact.''
``Well, I don't like it,'' said he, ``but the thing's got to go through somehow. If you must go, I will go along myself. Can't lose sight of you, doc, just at present. You're monstrous precious. Did you tell File?''
``Yes,'' said I; ``he's all right. Come. We've no time to lose.''
Nor had we. Within twenty minutes we were seated in the last car of a long train, and running at the rate of twenty miles an hour toward Dayton. In about ten minutes I asked Stagers for a cigar.
``Can't smoke here,'' said he.
``No,'' I answered; ``of course not. I'll go forward into the smoking-car.''
``Come along,'' said he, and we went through the train.
I was not sorry he had gone with me when I found in the smoking-car one of the spies who had been watching me so constantly. Stagers nodded to him and grinned at me, and we sat down together.
``Chut!'' said I, ``left my cigar on the window-ledge in the hindmost car. Be back in a moment.''
This time, for a wonder, Stagers allowed me to leave unaccompanied. I hastened through to the nearer end of the hindmost car, and stood on the platform. I instantly cut the signal-cord. Then I knelt down, and, waiting until the two cars ran together, I tugged at the connecting-pin. As the cars came together, I could lift it a little, then as the strain came on the coupling the pin held fast. At last I made a great effort, and out it came. The car I was on instantly lost speed, and there