Chapter 17 Chapter 15 Escape

The next day, Thursday, was clear, and it was bound to be a nice, warm day.Dad looked dapper in the linen suit I had insisted on buying for him in Leeds.But he kept muttering and whining about how he wasn't "Lily"—whatever that meant—and refused to set foot outside Clay's house for half an hour for fear of being caught by acquaintances. The little details of that day – and perhaps most importantly, that we were destined to stay at the Leeds – are photographic.I remember buying my father a nice orange tie, which anyone with a taste for color would know would go perfectly with a linen suit.I put the tie on for him, and he kept muttering and complaining, very unhappy, looking like a wanted man or in a prison uniform.Poor dad!He was hopelessly reserved, which made it all the more pleasant for me to dress him up a bit—an act of affection which he would not appreciate at all.

"Let's go for a walk in the mountains." I suggested. "Wearing this weird outfit?" "certainly!" "Don't even think about it, I won't go." "Oh, go on," I said, "don't be so old-fashioned, it's such a beautiful day." "There's no door at all," my father growled. "Besides, I—I'm not feeling well, and my left leg has rheumatism again." "This dry mountain air will give you rheumatism? Nonsense! Let's go to Mr. Wren and show him your beautiful new clothes." So we walked along the way, and I picked a handful of wild flowers by the roadside, and my father also forgot the anxiety caused by his clothes, and gradually became happy.

We found the old gentleman sitting on Father Muir's porch, absorbed in his book, and—surprise of surprises—in a linen suit and an orange tie! They stared at each other like two elderly Beau Brummells and then Father shyly blushed and Mr Wren laughed softly. "Real fashion, Sergeant, influenced by Pacings, I think. Very well, Sam, you do want a daughter." "I'm just getting used to the clothes," my father murmured, "well, at least I've got a partner." Father Muir came out and gave us a warm welcome—he was still pale from the night before—and we all sat down.The kindly Mrs. Croser came out with a tray of cold drinks, obviously no alcoholic drinks.While Mr. Wren spoke, I gazed at the cloud-studded sky, avoiding the high gray walls of the Algonquin prison next door.It was a bright summer day, but inside that gray wall there was always only the desolate harsh winter.I'd love to know what's up with Alan Deo.

Time passed quietly, I sat on the rocking chair and immersed myself in my meditation, staring at the beautiful blue sky ecstatically, my thoughts could not help but shift to what happened the night before. The second wooden box—what does it portend?Evidently it had special meaning to Dr. Ella Fawcett: the cruel expression on his face was not an expression of ignorant terror, but a reaction of understanding.How did this wooden box fall into his hands?Who gave it to him... I sat up suddenly, could it have been sent by Alan Deo? I leaned back again, lost in deep confusion.Then all the factual framing would have to start all over again.Deo has confessed that he sent the first wooden box, and it can be inferred that he made the wooden box in the carpentry department of the prison.Did he make a second wooden box and send it to the second victim through the special underground pipeline in the prison?My mind was in a mess and my heart was beating like a hammer.But that's so weird, Aaron Deo didn't kill Senator Fawcett... I'm so confused.

Just after half past twelve, our attention was suddenly drawn to the prison gate.Until then it had been business as usual—armed guards paced up and down the walls, the ugly sentry post was so quiet that it would have looked empty were it not for the faint glint of the muzzles protruding from it.After a while there was some small commotion, and there was no doubt that something unusual happened. We all sat up straight, and the three of them stopped talking to stare at the prison gate together. The large steel door opened from the inside, and a blue-uniformed guard stepped out, with a pistol on his body and a rifle in his hand.Then he backed away, with his back to us, yelling something.A group of people came out in two files, the prisoners... They walked along the dirt road, each with a pick and a shovel, his head held high, sniffing the fresh air like anxious dogs.Their attire was the same—dark waterproof boots, gray wrinkled trousers and coat, and a maroon dungaree shirt.There were a total of twenty prisoners, obviously going to the forest on the other side of the hill to make or build a road. With a loud shout from the guard, the leader turned awkwardly to the left, leading the column gradually out of our sight.The second armed guard walked behind, and the first guard followed the two columns to the right, shouting orders from time to time, until at last twenty-two were out of sight.

We sat back again, and Father Muir said dreamily: "For these people, this is simply heaven. Although the work is rough and tiring, but as St. Jerome said: 'Keep working constantly , the demons will never have a chance to take advantage of it.' And it will give them a chance to step out of the prison gate, so they like the work of building roads very much." Then sighed. Exactly one hour and ten minutes later it happened. Mrs. Croser had prepared a light lunch, and we were relaxing back on the porch after we had eaten, when something in the prison walls again attracted our attention, and all conversation came to a screeching halt.

One of the guards on the wall stopped suddenly and stared intently at the courtyard below as if listening, while we all sat stiffly in our chairs. Hearing that voice out of the blue, we couldn't help being startled and flinched a bit.It sounded rude, sharp, and grim—it was a long, piercing chime that echoed around the hills, and then faded away like a groan of death.Then there was another, and another, and another, and finally I covered my ears and almost screamed. When the bell rang for the first time, Father Muir was whiter than his collar, clutching the arms of his chair. "The bell is ringing," he murmured.

I listened to this diabolical symphony without moving, and then Mr. Wren suddenly asked, "Fire?" "A prisoner has escaped," my father whispered, licking his lips. "Petty, go inside—" Father Muir stared at the prison walls. "No," he said, "no, escape... Heavenly Father have mercy!" Together we jumped up and down the garden, leaning against the rose-filled stone wall. The walls of Algonquin Prison seemed to be buzzing with alarm bells too, and the guards stood there nervously, looking frantically around, guns held aloft—shaking, hesitant, but ready for any contingencies.Then the steel doors swung open again, and a full-fledged car, full of men in blue uniforms and rifles in hand, sprinted out onto the road, full speed to the left, and was soon out of sight.There was one car after another, and there were five cars full of people, all of them fully armed, and they were eager to catch up with something.I noticed Warden Magnus in the first car, sitting beside the driver, pale and serious.

Father Muir gasped and said, "It's lost!" Then he lifted the hem of his cassock and hurried to the prison gate, billowing up a cloud of smoke.We see him running towards a group of armed guards at the door, stopping to talk to them.They gestured to the left, looking from that direction, in the distance, at the foot of the mountain below the prison, was covered with dense forest. The priest came back with slow steps, his head downcast and his face full of despair. "What's the matter, Father?" I asked hastily.He was stepping through the door and walking over, patting the dust on the blanket with both hands.

He didn't raise his head, and I seemed to see confusion, pain, and indescribable anger on his face, as if suddenly, his confidence collapsed, and he was suffering from a spiritual pain that he had never experienced in his life. "A prisoner from the road-building team," he stammered with trembling hands, "took his chance to escape while he was working." Mr. Wren looked at the hill intently, "That's—" "Yes—" the priest's voice faltered, and then he raised his head. "It's Alan Dow." We were all stunned, at least my father and I were too shocked to accept it for a while.

Alan Deo has escaped!I can't think of it anyway.I glanced at the old gentleman, wondering if he had expected it beforehand, his chiseled statue-like face was calm, still gazing at the distant hills intently, like an artist intoxicated by the beautiful sunset. We waited at Father Muir's all afternoon, and there was nothing we could do but wait.Everyone didn't speak much, and they didn't want to talk or laugh.Father Muir seems to have fallen into the horror atmosphere of last night again, and I really feel the shadow of death creeping into the porch. I can even feel as if I am in that ominous death chamber, watching Scalzi think with his last breath. Break off the leash. Throughout the afternoon, we saw the crowd running around like ants inside and outside the prison. We were all shocked and overwhelmed, so we could only watch quietly.The old priest rushed to the prison several times to inquire about the news, but every time he came back, there was no new development, and Deo was still missing.Guards have scoured the countryside, all neighboring residents have been notified and alarm bells have been ringing repeatedly.As for the prison, we heard that the state of maximum alert has been entered. All the prisoners are rushed into their cells and locked in their own cells. No one is allowed to step out of the cell until the fugitive is captured... In the early afternoon, we saw the road-building team come back. Under the intimidation of six armed guards, they kept a certain distance behind each other. I counted dumbly, and there were only nineteen people in total.They disappeared into the prison courtyard shortly after. In the evening, the cars that went out to search came back one by one.Warden Magnus sat in the first car, and as the occupants shuffled wearily out and through the gates, we saw him issue a commanding order to a guard—Father Muir said, It's the Chief of the Guard—in a low voice.Then, he walked towards us with tired steps.He climbed up the stairs slowly, panting constantly, his short and fat figure looked exhausted, his face covered with sweat and dust. "Well," he sighed, and sank into an arm-chair, "that man is a scourge. What do you think of your beloved Alan Dow, Mr. Wren?" Said the old gentleman, "Warden, a dog will jump over a wall when cornered. It's not a pleasant thing to spend the rest of your life behind bars for a crime you never committed." Father Muir whispered, "No news, Magnus?" "No, he just kind of burrowed into the ground and disappeared. I daresay—he couldn't have done it alone. There must be some accomplice, or we'd have him." We sat in silence, no one spoke.Then a line of guards came out of the prison gate and came towards us, and the warden said hastily, "With all due respect, Father, I have to make an apology to you. I have just ordered an inquest, and it is going to be held right here-- Your porch. I don't want to do this in a prison, lest it damage morale...you don't mind?" "No, no, of course I don't mind." "What are your plans, Magnus?" Father grumbled. The warden looked cold, "I suspect that things are not simple. Most of the prison escapes in the past were tampered with in the prison - secretly carried out with the help of other prisoners. This kind of prison escape almost always failed in the end. In any case, prison escapes are quite rare. There have been twenty-three escape attempts in the past nineteen years, and only four of them have not been caught. Therefore, if the prisoner wants to escape, he had better be sure that he will succeed, and if he fails, he will have to pay a heavy price— —he's going to lose most of his privileges, and end badly. No, my take on this one is—" He paused through gritted teeth, as the group of guards came to the steps of Father Muir's house and stood at attention. it is good.I noticed that two of them were unarmed, and the way other guards surrounded them gave me the chills. "Parker! Callahan! Come here," Warden Magnus yelled. The two men stepped forward reluctantly up the steps, their dusty faces were pale, both of them were very tense, and one of them—Parker—was crying like a scolded man with his lower lip trembling with fear. Child. "How is this going?" Parker swallowed a mouthful of saliva, but it was Callahan who spoke: "Warden, he escaped while we were not looking. You know that in the eight years we have been here, no prisoner from the road construction team has ever tried to escape. We were sitting on the rocks watching them work, and Dow was carrying water a short distance from the road, and all of a sudden he dropped the bucket and ran off into the woods. Parker and I—we yelled for others The guy stayed on the road and ran after him. I shot three times, but I guess I—" The warden raised his hand, and Callahan stopped. "Daly," Magnus said calmly to a guard at the bottom of the steps, "did you check the road over there as I ordered?" "Report to the warden, yes." "What did you find?" "I found two bullets in a tree twenty feet from Port Deo over the woods." "On the same side of the road?" "Report to the warden, it's on the other side of the road." "So," said Magnus still calmly, "Parker, Callahan, how much did you gain by letting Dow escape?" Callahan muttered, "Why, Warden, we absolutely—" But Parker, his knees shaking, yelled, "Told you, Callahan! You're the goddamn dragger! Said we couldn't escape—" "You took bribes, didn't you?" Magnus interrupted him. Parker covered his face and said, "Yes, the warden." I think Mr. Wren must be very confused, his eyes are twinkling, and he is sitting in his chair thoughtfully. "Who paid you?" "A guy in town," Parker said, and Callahan looked murderous. "Don't know his name, just a go-between." Mr. Wren made a special sound from deep in his throat, leaned forward and whispered in the warden's ear, Magnus nodded, "How did Deo know about this plan?" "I don't know, Warden. God knows, I really don't know! Everything is in order, and we don't have to bother to approach him, we're just told that everything is in order." "How much did you take?" "Five hundred dollars each. Warden, I—I didn't do it on purpose! Just because my wife is going to have an operation, and the child is..." "Stop it," interrupted Magnus, and with a nod of his head, the two guards were led back to the prison. "Magnus," said Father Muir nervously, "don't judge them, don't punish them, just fire them. I know Mrs. Parker, she's really sick. Callahan isn't a bad person either. But They all have families to support, and you know how little their salaries are—" Magnus sighed, "Father, I know. But there is no way, I can't set this precedent. Otherwise, the other guards' sense of discipline will be gone. In this way, you also understand what impact it will have on the prisoners. "He made a strange gesture. "It's really weird," he said in a low voice, "I don't know how I got the news of the escape, unless Parker lied... I have long suspected that there is a loophole in the prison, but this method is quite clever..." The old gentleman looked sadly at a fiery sunset. "Warden, I think I can help you with this," he murmured, "As you said, it is indeed quite clever, but it is also very simple." "Oh?" Warden Magnus blinked, "What is it?" Mr. Wren shrugged: "Warden, I have discovered this loophole for a while, and it is purely the result of observing some strange phenomenon. It is strange enough, I have not mentioned it, because my old friend Father Muir is also involved." The priest's mouth opened wide.Warden Magnus jumped up and shouted with staring eyes: "Nonsense! I don't believe why, the priest is the most—" "I know, I know," Mr. Wren said softly, "sit down, warden, calm down. As for you, priest, don't be nervous. I'm not going to accuse you of doing something bad. Let me explain first. Warden, since I lived with the priest, I have often found some strange things-these things are nothing in themselves, but they are very consistent with the loopholes in your prison, so I tried my best to find out... Father, you Do you still remember any accidents you encountered when you entered the city recently?" The priest's haggard eyes were lost in thought, trying to focus through the thick lenses, and then he shook his head, "It's—no, I can't think of anything." Then he smiled apologetically, "Unless you are That I bumped into someone. Mr. Wren, you know, I'm very short-sighted, and I'm afraid I'm a little absent-minded..." The old gentleman laughed, "Exactly. You are short-sighted and absent-minded, so you bump into people in the street when you go into town. Warden, pay attention to this, although I don't know the exact method, but I've been watching for a while. Father, what happened when you hit those pedestrians?" Father Muir looked puzzled. "What do you mean? Those people are very kind, and respectful to see me in my cassock. I think, a few times, I dropped my umbrella on the sidewalk, or my hat, or my prayer book— " "Ha! Your prayer-book? It's just as I expected. So what do these well-meaning, respectful people see you drop your hat, umbrella, or prayer-book?" "They picked it up and returned it to me, what's the matter?" Mr. Wren laughed lowly, "Warden, you understand, this question couldn't be simpler. Father, these kind people picked up your prayer book, hid it, and gave you another one that looks the same And this broken prayer book, I suppose, contains the letter you brought into the prison; or a prayer book appropriated by a well-meaning passer-by, and contains the note to be taken out of the prison!" "But how did you find out?" the warden murmured. "It's nothing magical," laughed the old gentleman. "There have been times when I've seen a priest leave the house or the prison with a prayer book with an old cover, but the one he came back with had a shiny cover, obviously brand new. His prayer book never grows old, like a phoenix rising from the ashes, so of course I would deduce that." Magnus stood up again and started pacing the porch: "Of course! How fucking smart. Come on, come on, Father, don't be so shocked, it's not your fault, who do you think did it?" "I—I can't think of it," stammered the priest. "Of course, it's Tabor!" Magnus turned to face us. "The only possible person is Tabor. Because Father Muir, in addition to being the prison chaplain, also runs the prison library-in large prisons usually So. He had an assistant, a prisoner named Tabor--our model prisoner; but a criminal is a criminal, and Tabor must have used the priest, as a means of communication between the prisoner and the outside world, from every letter or paper that came in and out. Alas, it seems so clear now! I can't thank you enough, Mr. Wren, and I'll have that scoundrel in five minutes." So the warden hurried out with bright eyes and rushed back to the prison. Blue-black shadows enveloped the hills, and night began to fall.As the sky darkened, most of the prison searchers returned, bright search lights shining on the dusty road, but they were empty-handed and did not catch Dow. We had nothing to do, either go back to Clay's, or stay and wait, and we chose to stay.Dad called Elihu Clay to reassure him that neither of us wanted to leave without knowing the results of the search.Until very late, a group of us still sat there, no one spoke, and at one point I heard the barking of the hounds... Tabor's problems don't bother us—except for Father Muir, who sadly refuses to believe it, as such a "fine young man, so knowledgeable about the books in our library." interests, and reading ability is among the best among the prisoners," he said of the assistant librarian.Then it was about ten o'clock—we hadn't eaten since lunch, but no one was hungry.The priest, who had never had a rest, could bear it no longer, apologized to us, and hurried to the prison.When he came back, he looked very distressed, wringing his hands and refusing to accept comfort, and the shocked expression on his face made people fear that it would never be healed. He seemed unable to believe that in his tender heart, the rose-colored bubble-like beliefs of those criminals had fallen into reality and were ruthlessly punctured. "I just saw Magnus," he gasped, slumping into his chair. "It's true, it's true! Tabor—I don't understand, I really don't understand, what's the matter with my poor boys ! Tabor has admitted." "He's using you, isn't he?" Father asked softly. "Yes, oh, yes! Terrible, I went to see him, he has been relieved of his duties and privileges, and Magnus--perfectly right, of course, but it seems too harsh--put him Reclassified as a class C prisoner, he hardly dared to look me in the eye, how could he—” "Did he say," asked Mr. Wren in a low voice, "how many times he sent letters for Aaron Dow?" Father Muir flinched. "Yes, Dow sent it only once—a few weeks ago, to Senator Fawcett, but Tabor didn't know what the letter was about. There was only one or two messages sent." times. It's unbelievable that he's been doing this money-making business for years. Every time I bring home a new prayer book, he'll take out the letter sewn on the back of the book...or put the letter in the old Let me take that out. He said he never knew what the letter was about. Oh, my God..." So we all sat there and waited for the things we dreaded to happen.Will they find Deo who has escaped?It seemed unlikely that he would ever escape the clutches of the guards. "Those--those guards were talking among themselves," trembling Father Muir, "to take the dogs out." "I think I heard a dog barking." I said softly, and everyone fell silent.Time passed slowly, and there was a loud noise from the prison, and the lights shot wildly into the sky.All night cars passed in and out of the prison yard, rushing down the road into the forest, and whizzing past Father Muir's house.Once, we actually saw a man in dark clothes leading several dogs with long tongues sticking out, which looked terrible.After Father Muir came back, we sat on the porch in silence from ten o'clock until midnight.I vaguely felt that Mr. Jerry Lane was struggling with some crime that he couldn't clearly grasp. He didn't say a word, just stared at the sky with half-closed eyes, and clasped his hands loosely in front of him.To him, it was as if we didn't exist.Was he thinking that the last time Alan D'O was released from prison, someone had just been murdered?Could this be what he was trying to figure out?I think I should say something... Things happened suddenly in the middle of the night, as if pre-arranged by the god of chance. A car came up the hill from the direction of Leeds and pulled to a halt in front of our door.Each of us immediately stood up unconsciously, craned our necks in the dark. Someone jumped out of the back of the car and rushed up the path leading to the porch. "Inspector Sam? Mr. Wren?" he called. It was Prosecutor Hume, tousled and panting with great agitation. "What's the matter?" Dad asked aloud. Hume suddenly sat down on the last step of the steps, "I have news to tell you all... Do you still think Deo is innocent?" He put on an afterthought wise. Jerry Lane stumbled forward two steps, and in the faint starlight, I saw his lips move silently, and then said in a low voice, "You don't mean—" "I mean," murmured Hume in a voice that sounded weary, bitter, and resentful, as if what had happened was an insult to him personally, "I mean, your friend Alan Oh escaped from Algonquin this afternoon, and this evening - just a few minutes ago - Dr. Ella Fawcett was found murdered."

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