There were no onions strewn over this prison where I was now locked up. This was a real jail with iron bars at the windows, the sight of which put all thought of escape from my mind. In the cell there was only a bench and a hammock. I dropped onto the bench and remained for a long time with my head buried in my hands. Mattia and Bob, even with the help of other friends, could never get me away from here. I got up and went over to the window; the bars were strong and close together. The walls were three feet thick. The ground beneath was paved with large stones. The door was covered with a plate of sheet iron.... No, I could not escape.
I began to wonder if it would be possible for me to prove my innocence, despite Capi's presence in the church. Mattia and Bob could help me by proving an alibi. If they could prove this I was saved in spite of the mute testimony that my poor dog had carried against me. I asked the jailer when he brought in some food if it would be long before I should appear before the magistrate. I did not know then that in England you are taken into court the day after arrest. The jailer, who seemed a kindly sort of man, told me that it would certainly be the next day.
I had heard tales of prisoners finding messages from their friends in the food that was brought in to them. I could not touch my food, but I at once began to crumble my bread. I found nothing inside. There were some potatoes also; I mashed
