“It was this way,” explained Hank, his sluggish nature spurred on somewhat by Joe’s sharp, decided tone. “He seemed all right when I went the rounds for the last time last night. Was just as gentle as a lamb. This morning, when I went in to take him his breakfast he was asleep, as far as I could make out. I stooped over to put the tray on the bench, when he suddenly jumped up and fetched me a clip under the chin that knocked me down, me not looking for anything of the kind. Before I could get to my feet, he’d dashed out the cell and shut the door on me. It shuts with a spring lock, and my keys were on the outside. Then he gives an awful laugh and runs down the corridor, and I suppose he let himself out of the front door. I hammered on the cell door and yelled until my wife heard me and came and let me out.”