A few hours after this conversation, Laflamme sought to accomplish his
escape. He had lately borne a letter from the Commandant, which
permitted him to go from point to point outside the peninsula of Ducos,
where the least punished of the political prisoners were kept. He
depended somewhat on this for his escape. Carbourd had been more heroic,
but then Carbourd was desperate. Laflamme believed more in ability than
force. It was ability and money that had won over the captain of the
Parroquet, coupled with the connivance of an old member of the Commune,
who was now a guard. This night there was increased alertness, owing to
the escape of Carbourd; and himself, if not more closely watched, was at
least open to quick suspicion owing to his known friendship for Carbourd.
He strolled about the fortified enclosure, chatting to fellow prisoners,
and waiting for the call which should summon them to the huts. Through
years of studied good-nature he had come to be regarded as a contented
prisoner. He had no enemies save one among the guards. This man Maillot
he had offended by thwarting his continued ill-treatment of a young lad
who had been one of the condemned of the Commune, and whose hammock, at
last, by order of the Commandant, was slung in Laflamme's hut. For this
kindness and interposition the lad was grateful and devoted. He had been
set to labour in the nickel mines; but that came near to killing him, and
again through Laflamme's pleading he had been made a prisoner of the
first class, and so relieved of all heavy tasks. Not even he suspected
the immediate relations of Laflamme and Carbourd; nor that Laflamme was
preparing for escape.
As Laflamme waited for the summons to huts, a squad of prisoners went
clanking by him, manacled. They had come from road-making. These never
heard from wife nor child, nor held any commerce with the outside world,
nor had any speech with each other, save by a silent gesture--language
which eluded the vigilance of the guards. As the men passed, Laflamme
looked at them steadily. They knew him well. Some of them remembered
his speeches at the Place Vendome. They bore him no ill-will that he did
not suffer as they. He made a swift sign to a prisoner near the rear of
the column. The man smiled, but gave no answering token. This was part
of the unspoken vocabulary, and, in this instance, conveyed the two
words: I escape.
A couple of hours later Laflamme rose from a hammock in his hut, and
leant over the young lad, who was sleeping. He touched him gently.