For this was real tragedy.

Here there was no hope.

The tentacles of the law had him in their grip, and he could no longer dream of escape.
Ghastly was the thought that it was he, James Kent, who had supervised the building of these cells! Acquainted with every trick and stratagem of the prisoner plotting for his freedom, he had left no weak point in their structure.

Again he clenched his hands, and in his soul he cursed Mercer as he went to the little barred window that overlooked the river from his cell.

The river was near now.