My suspicions quieted, I reasoned as follows: 

I wish to regain my liberty at all hazards.  My pike is an admirable instrument, but I can make no use of it as my cell is sounded all over (except the ceiling) every day.  If I would escape, it is by the ceiling, therefore, that way I must go, but to do that I must make a hole through it, and that I cannot do from my side, for it would not be the work of a day.  I must have someone to help me; and not having much choice I had to pick out the monk.  He was thirty-eight, and though not rich in common sense I judged that the love of liberty—­the first need of man—­would give him sufficient courage to carry out any orders I might give.  I must begin by telling him my plan in its entirety, and then I shall have to find a way to give him the bar.  I had, then, two difficult problems before me.

My first step was to ask him if he wished to be free, and if he were disposed to hazard all in attempting his escape in my company.  He replied that his mate and he would do anything to break their chains, but, added he, “it is of no use to break one’s head against a stone wall.”  He filled four pages with the impossibilities which presented themselves to his feeble intellect, for the fellow saw no chance of success on any quarter.  I replied that I did not trouble myself with general difficulties, and that in forming my plan I had only thought of special difficulties, which I would find means to overcome, and I finished by giving him my word of honour to set him free, if he would promise to carry out exactly whatever orders I might give.

He gave me his promise to do so.  I told him that I had a pike twenty inches long, and with this tool he must pierce the ceiling of his cell next the wall which separated us, and he would then be above my head; his next step would be to make a hole in the ceiling of my cell and aid me to escape by it.  “Here your task will end and mine will begin, and I will undertake to set both you and Count Asquin at liberty.”

He answered that when I had got out of my cell I should be still in prison, and our position would be the same as now, as we should only be in the garrets which were secured by three strong doors.

“I know that, reverend father,” I replied, “but we are not going to escape by the doors.  My plan is complete, and I will guarantee its success.  All I ask of you is to carry out my directions, and to make no difficulties.  Do you busy yourself to find out some way of getting my bar without the knowledge of the gaoler.  In the meanwhile, make him get you about forty pictures of saints, large enough to cover all the walls of your cell.  Lawrence will suspect nothing, and they will do to conceal the opening you are to make in the ceiling.  To do this will be the work of some days, and of mornings Lawrence will not see what you have done the day before, as you will have covered it up with one of the pictures.  If you ask me why I do not undertake the work myself, I can only say that the gaoler suspects me, and the objection will doubtless seem to you a weighty one.”