From Vol. I--1829-1852. Chapter X, p. 311. Copyright, 1907,
by the McClure Co.
Shortly before midnight I stood, equipped as on the night before, well
hidden in the dark recess of the house door opposite the penitentiary.
The street corners right and left were, according to agreement,
properly watched, but our friends kept themselves, as much as
possible, concealed. A few minutes later the night watchman shuffled
down the street, and, when immediately in front of me, swung his
rattle and called the hour of twelve. Then he slouched quietly on and
disappeared. What would I have given for a roaring storm and a
splashing rain! But the night was perfectly still. My eye was riveted
to the roof of the penitentiary building, the dormer windows of which
I could scarcely distinguish. The street lights flared dimly. Suddenly
there appeared a light above, by which I could observe the frame of
one of the dormer windows; it moved three times up and down; that was
the signal hoped for. With an eager glance I examined the street right
and left. Nothing stirred. Then on my part I gave the signal agreed
upon, striking sparks. A second later the light above disappeared and
I perceived a dark object slowly moving across the edge of the wall.
My heart beat violently and drops of perspiration stood upon my
forehead. Then the thing I had apprehended actually happened: tiles
and brick, loosened by the rubbing rope, rained down upon the pavement
with a loud clatter. "Now, good heaven, help us!" At the same moment
Hensel's carriage came rumbling over the cobblestones. The noise of
the falling tiles and brick was no longer audible. But would they not
strike Kinkel's head and benumb him? Now the dark object had almost
reached the ground. I jumped forward and touched him; it was indeed my
friend and there he stood alive and on his feet.
"This is a bold deed," were the first words he said to me.
"Thank God," I answered. "Now off with the rope and away."