You see, I have been wicked in my time and know something about the inside of prisons.

You may build them like great castles, or they may be like a backveld _tronk_, only mud and corrugated iron, but there is always a key and a man who keeps it, and that man can be bested.

I knew I could get away, but I did not think it would be so easy.

That was due to the bogus prisoners, my friends, the spies.
'I made great pals with them.

On Christmas night we were very jolly together.