پیغامی از سلول سیزده

CHAPTER THREE

A Message from Cell 13

The warden spent an hour trying to discover what the message was. Why did his prisoner want to talk to Dr Ransome? And where had he got the materials to write? He examined the linen again. It was a part of a white shirt. But what had he written with? The warden knew that the prisoner didn’t have a pen or a pencil. So what had he used? The warden decided to investigate. The Thinking Machine was his prisoner. “If this man is trying to escape by sending coded messages,” he thought, “I will stop him.”

The warden returned to Cell 13. He found The Thinking Machine on his hands and knees. He was catching rats. The prisoner heard the warden and turned to him quickly.

“It’s terrible,” he said. “These rats. There are hundreds of them.”

“Other men can live with them,” said the warden. “Give me your shirt. Here is another one.”

“Why?” demanded The Thinking Machine.

“You have attempted to communicate with Dr Ransome,” said the warden, angrily. “As the warden of this prison, I must stop you.” The Thinking Machine was silent for a moment.

“All right,” he said, finally. “Here. Take it.”

The warden smiled. The prisoner stood up and took off his shirt. He gave it to the warden. In exchange, the warden gave him a blue prison shirt. The warden looked at The Thinking Machine’s white shirt. He compared the pieces of linen he had with the shirt. It was torn in two places. The Thinking Machine watched him.

“Did the guard give you those” he asked.

“Yes, he did,” said the warden. “And that is the end of your first attempt to escape.” The Thinking Machine watched the warden as he looked at the shirt. He saw that there were only two pieces missing from it. He smiled.

“What did you write this message with” asked the warden.

“I’m afraid you must discover that” The Thinking Machine said.

The warden became angry but he didn’t say anything more. He made a very careful inspection of the cell and the prisoner, but he found nothing. Nothing that The Thinking Machine could use as a pen. And the liquid that he had used to write the message was also a mystery. Finally the warden went out of the cell. He took The Thinking Machine’s shirt with him.

“Well, he won’t escape by writing messages on a shirt,” the warden thought.

On the third day of his incarceration The Thinking Machine tried to bribe the guard so that he could escape. The guard brought his food and waited outside the cell door.

“The drainpipes of the prison go to the river, don’t they?” The Thinking Machine asked.

“Yes,” said the guard.

“I imagine they are very small?”

“Yes. They are too small to escape through.”

There was silence. The Thinking Machine finished his food. Then he said:

“You know I’m not a criminal, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“And I can leave the prison if I want to?”

“Yes.”

“Well, when I came here I believed I could escape,” said the prisoner. “Will you help me if I give you some money?”

The guard was an honest man.

“No,” he said.

“Five hundred dollars,” said The Thinking Machine. “I am not a criminal.”

“No,” said the guard.

“A thousand?”

“No. If you gave me ten thousand dollars, I couldn’t get you out. To get out you have to pass through seven doors and I only have the keys to two.”

The guard ran to the warden’s office and told him about the prisoner’s offer.

“Plan number two fails,” said the warden and smiled. “First a message and then a bribe.”

At six o’clock, the guard went to Cell 13 again to bring food to The Thinking Machine. He stopped in the corridor. There was a noise coming from inside the cell. The guard walked very quietly to the cell door. Through the bars he saw The Thinking Machine at the window. He was trying to cut through the iron bars of the window with a file.

The guard went back to the office and told the warden. The two men went back to Cell 13, walking very quietly. The warden looked into the cell and saw The Thinking Machine still at the window. He entered the cell.

The Thinking Machine turned round and jumped onto the floor. He tried to hide the file in his hand.

“Give it to me,” said the warden.

“No,” said the prisoner. There was anger in his voice.

“Come on. Give it to me.”

“No,” repeated The Thinking Machine.

“Very well. Search him,” said the warden to the guard.

The guard searched The Thinking Machine. After some minutes he found a piece of steel about five centimeters long in the prisoner’s trousers. A few minutes later he found another piece. The guard gave the pieces of steel to the warden. The warden looked at them.

“You couldn’t cut through the bars on the window with these,” he said.

“Yes I could,” said The Thinking Machine.

“In six months perhaps,” said the warden, smiling.

“Just wait, you’ll see,” said The Thinking Machine.

Once more the guard searched the cell. But once more they found nothing. The warden stood on the bed and looked at the bars of the window. He took the bars in his hand and tried to move them. They were immovable. He smiled and then got down from the bed.

“Forget it, Professor, you will never escape from here,” he said.

The Thinking Machine said nothing. He just sat on the bed with his head in his hands. The warden and the guard went out of the cell and closed the door.

“He is mad to try and escape,” said the warden, “but he is very clever. I would like to know what he used to write that coded message.”

It was four o’clock the next morning when a terrible scream resounded through the prison. It came from a cell near the centre of the building, a sound full of horror and great fear. The warden heard it and ran with three of his men into the long corridor that went to Cell 13.