"In the short time left me I would like to write a letter to a friend." "If it is a lady friend," said the Frenchman with a wink, "it might be allowed--provided she is fair, and I may have the honour of delivering it." "She is fair," said I, trying hard to keep up the jest; "and I will gladly trust you with what I write to her." The fellow was, after all, of the good-natured kind, and I think meant no harm by his jests.

At any rate, after some demur, he agreed to loose my handcuffs for half-an-hour while I wrote; and having fetched me in pen and paper, left me to myself, double locking the door after him.
This was what I wanted.

I waited till his footsteps died down the passage, and then crept silently to the window.

It was above my reach, but by jumping I could just catch the bars and haul myself up.

Not being intended as a dungeon, the bars were loosely fixed, and I found that it would be possible to remove one, and so allow room through which to squeeze.