my gendarmes on the staircase,” answered he, “and if he escapes—­“—­“Take care how you place them then,” said I with affected haste.  “If Vidocq should see them he would mistrust some plot, and then farewell to the bird.”—­“But where shall I place them?”—­“Oh, why in this closet—­mind, no noise, that would spoil all; and I have more desire than yourself that he should not suspect anything.”  My commissary was now shut up in four walls with his agents.  The door, which was very strong, closed with a double lock.  Then, certain of time for escape, I cried to my prisoners, “You are looking for Vidocq—­well, it is he who has caged you; farewell.”  And away I went like a dart, leaving the party shouting for help, and making desperate efforts to escape from the unlucky closet.

Two escapes of the same sort I effected, but at last I was arrested and carried back to St. Peter’s Tower, where, for greater security, I was placed in a dungeon with a man named Calendrin, who was also thus punished for two attempts at escape.  Calendrin, who had known me during my first confinement in the prison, imparted to me a fresh plan of escape, which he had devised by means of a hole worked in the wall of the dungeon of the galley-slaves, with whom we could communicate.  The third night of my detention all was managed for our escape, and eight of the prisoners who first went out were so fortunate as to avoid being detected by the sentinel, who was only a short distance off.

Seven of us still remained, and we drew straws, as is usual in such circumstances, to determine which of the seven should first pass.  I drew the short straw, and undressed myself that I might get with greater ease through the hole, which was very narrow, but to the great disappointment of all, I stuck fast without the possibility of advancing or receding.  In vain did my companions endeavour to pull me out by force, I was caught as if in a trap, and the pain of my situation was so extreme, that not expecting further help from within, I called to the sentry to render me assistance.  He approached with the precaution of a man who fears a surprise, and presenting his bayonet to my breast, forbade me to make the slightest movement.  At his summons the guard came out, the porters ran with torches, and I was dragged from my hole, not without leaving behind me a portion of my skin and flesh.  Torn and wounded as I was, they immediately transferred me to the prison of Petit Hotel, when I was put into a dungeon, fettered hand and foot.

Ten days afterwards I was placed amongst the prisoners, through my intreaties and promises not to attempt again to escape.

[Here he meets with a fellow named Bruxellois, the Daring, of whom the following anecdote is related:—­]