“Can't you keep still?” exclaimed Harris, withdrawing his head from the
window.
A portly watchman usually sat on a stool outside the door day and night;
but on this particular occasion, his services being required elsewhere,
the bridewell had been left to guard itself.
“All clear,” whispered Jack Harris, as he vanished through the
aperture and dropped softly on the ground outside. We all followed him
expeditiously--Pepper Whitcomb and myself getting stuck in the window for
a moment in our frantic efforts not to be last.
“Now, boys, everybody for himself!”