"Well, Corporal, your jig is up!" he murmured, "At daybreak they will
find that the baron's cell is empty. They will poke their heads out
of the window, and they will see you here, like a stone saint upon his
pedestal. Naturally, you will be captured, tried, condemned; and you
will be led out to take your turn in the ditches. Ready! Aim! Fire! And
that will be the end of your story."
He stopped short. A vague idea had entered his mind, which he felt might
possibly be his salvation.
It came to him in touching the rope which he had used in his descent
from the prison to the ledge, and which, firmly attached to the bars,
hung down the side of the tower.
"If you had that rope which hangs there useless, Corporal, you could add
it to these fragments, and then it would be long enough to carry you
to the foot of the rock. But how shall I obtain it? It is certainly
impossible to go back after it! and how can I pull it down when it is so
securely fastened to the bars?"
He sought a way, found it, and pursued it, talking to himself all the
while as if there were two corporals; one prompt to conceive, the other,
a trifle stupid, to whom it was necessary to explain everything in
detail.
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