Chapter 20 – Getting Into Prison

"Toad, do you seriously intend to break into the Tower of all places, and spirit Mole away?" Ratty spoke for them all. Toad had been ushered into the River Bankers' meeting and settled down with a warming cup of hot chocolate.

"Of course, you won't know!" Toad looked as smug and pleased with himself as only a toad could. "Mole has been moved; he is now in the same dungeon-keep that failed to hold me." He briefly enjoyed their surprise and then went on: "I had cunning, charm and daring; but poor Mole has none of those; he will need our help to 'spring' him."

Badger grimaced: this was the boastful Toad of old. "From what I've learnt, Toad, what you had was a lot of cash and a great deal of luck. Go on: tell us your plan for Mole – if you have one."

Toad blustered. "Well, err, the first thing will be intelligence – to find out exactly where Mole is locked up and what regime he is under. It's a well-guarded place – but the guards can be bribed if you know how to do it."

"And you are the man for that, eh Toad?" prompted Ratty.

Toad calmly poured himself more chocolate from the big jug. "Alas no, Ratty. My face and name are too well known there. I may have been pardoned – nay exonerated – but if they see me they may smell a rat. No offence intended."

"None taken, old man."

"Jolly good. Anywhere else I'd be your man, but in this case I must stay in the shadows. Now it can be risky - offering a bribe is a delicate business - who can be trusted to carry it off?"

"There is one thing we could try first, Mr Toad."

Toad turned to Cola and smiled condescendingly. "And what would that be my dear?"

"We could pay poor Mr Mole a prison visit."

Toad's laughter at this suggestion was abruptly cut short by a loud "Harrumph!" from Badger. "Hear her out Toad. Mrs Vole is an eminently sensible person; I for one always pay heed to what she has to say. … Mrs Vole, the floor is yours."

"Thank you, Mr Badger. As Mr Toad says, buying information illicitly is risky and could backfire on us: we don't want someone else under arrest. This might not work, but it is simple and legal, and could be done without delay: one or two of us should go to the prison and say we want to see the prisoner and talk to him. With any luck at all we will learn all we need to know. Moreover, I'm sure that Mr Mole would be very pleased to see some old friends."

This argument was very persuasive, and it was quickly agreed that Otter and Ratty should visit the jail the next day. Toad and his chauffeur 'roughed it' at The Earth that night (the latter more than his master), and the following morning, as soon as it was properly light, Toad's car took Toad, Ratty and Otter into town. Ratty and Otter were dropped off at the railway station and then Toad was driven on to the Grand Hotel.

Otter and Ratty soon found themselves crossing the drawbridge into the forbidding, medieval fortress where were confined the most dastardly malefactors in the land. Around the main courtyard all doors were closed against the bitter cold. Nobody was to be seen but the sentries deep in their sentry boxes, muffled up in greatcoats and busbies. It took time to locate the little, inconspicuous door with the faded sign that read 'Entrance for prisoners' visitors.' It was locked. Peering closely at the sign, Otter was just able to make out the hand-written instruction 'knock for admittance.' He did so, long and hard with the knuckles of both hands on the stout timbers of that ancient door, for no knocker was provided. There was no response, which was much as they expected, for Otter had been able to make little noise. He licked his sore knuckles and muttered indistinct imprecations against the prison system and its stern administrators.

Ratty, feeling obliged to take over from his companion, looked closely at the panels of the door and then at the snow-strewn ground at their feet. Reaching into a drift of snow right up against the wall next to the door he gave a grunt of delight and fished out a round, heavy stone that fitted comfortably in the hand. Smartly striking the door with this he was able to produce a very satisfactory 'thwack', while Otter stood in silent admiration.

A few more knocks, and the door creaked open, and a crabbed and ancient voice bid them enter "… and be quick about it." Their guide held high a lantern of antique design and led them along a narrow, windowless corridor to a tiny waiting room. "Wait here." And left waiting they were. The room was chill, dim, and dusty; they were the only occupants; a single high window gave just sufficient light to show a minute, stone-cold fireplace and a long wooden settle up against one wall.

Otter dusted off a seat for himself with a kerchief and sat down to try and read the daily paper he had bought at the railway station. Ratty went to read a notice on the rough stone wall directly below the window and thus in the darkest part of that bleak little room. It was a simple injunction: 'No spitting – by order.'

Ratty sighed and strode restlessly back and forth until Otter told him to sit down and behave. Time past. "I'm glad," Ratty said "that Cola is not with us."

Otter looked up from a very dreary newspaper. "You think this would have been a bit of an ordeal for her? It's certainly far from salubrious."

"No. She would kick up a stink about being kept waiting in such uninviting conditions, and I do so hate a fuss. And it would not help our cause one bit, either."

Otter had just started reading out the only remotely interesting item in his paper, about a mysterious underground explosion, when footsteps were heard and a clerk appeared before them. "Ah, two gentlemen. Would the first be so good as to follow me and we can begin the preliminaries."

"We are together," said Ratter and Otter together. "We travelled together to visit the same prisoner," added Otter.

"Oh, very well, both together then."

The Preliminary Office was up several flights of stairs; it was large, all the walls lined from floor to high ceiling with great leather-bound ledgers. It was also rather dim, the winter sun barely piercing the great mullioned windows due to the thick ivy encroaching on them; the main source of light was a blazing coal fire. The official was a tall, stooping man as thin as an eel, with greased-back black hair. He had a large desk and sat behind it in a chair to match; the visitors, however, were required to stand before it like errant schoolboys in their headmaster's study. The assistant clerk who had led them up hovered in the background.

Otter and Ratty signed a register, and then the questions began: were they British citizens; had they been abroad in the last five years; where did they reside; did they have criminal records? On and on. When Otter revealed that he was a magistrate, a ledger listing magistrates was brought down from the shelves to check this. Finally, enough questions had been answered, adequate notes taken and sufficient signatures added to sufficient forms for the official to declare himself satisfied.

"You haven't asked us," said Otter, in no good humour, "which prisoner we have come to visit."

"Not my department, sir. Though I do have one last question: when do you intend to visit the prisoner?"

"Why now, of course!"

"You wish to see the prisoner today?"

Midway between bafflement and anger, the two River Bankers gawped speechless at their tormentor and at each other. But the assistant clerk behind them laughed a polite little laugh. "You must forgive us, sirs: ours may seem a dull profession but we sometimes indulge ourselves with a little joke. Be so good as to follow me."

They were led through a labyrinth of passageways and stairways, corridors, courtyards and concourses, arriving at stout oak door, massively reinforced with iron bolts and braces. It was flanked by men-at-arms. "This, gentlemen, is as far as I can take you." Ignoring the men-at-arms, who were ignoring him, he indicated the massive knocker on the door, and strode back the way he had come.

As Otter raised his hand to grasp the knocker a little shutter in the door slid open and a face peered out. "State your business."

"We are here to see a prisoner," said Otter, rather loudly. He brandished the paper passes the Preliminary Official had given them. There was much noise of bolts being drawn back and locks opened. They were dazzled by a lantern held by the man who opened the door and looked them up and down.

Their passes were minutely examined; then they were gruffly commanded "This way," and led along yet another dim corridor and left in yet another waiting room. This one also had a flagstone floor and wooden benches; it lacked a fireplace entirely. Otter and Ratty sat down for another indeterminate wait.

"I am beginning to think," said Ratty, after he could stand Otter's idle humming no longer. "I am beginning to think that Cola's splendid idea was, perhaps, not as splendid as we all thought last night."

"Patience, old man, patience. So far everything has gone very well; you are just not used to the law's delays, that's all. At least we are getting a better idea of this place than we would ever get from Toad."

"Perhaps, but it is not a comforting idea. Still, if it prevents a madcap scheme which is bound to fail …"

The Official, when they were escorted in to see him, proved to be the opposite of the Preliminary Official: he was dressed in a smart military uniform, not a greasy black suit; he was fat, indeed rotund; and he was jolly: warmly greeting them and apologising for the delay! Once they were settled in comfortable chairs, he once again apologised, but he had further questions for them. "Prison bureaucracy, I'm afraid." Were they carrying any weapons? Had the prisoner requested their visit? What was the purpose of their visit? Had they brought anything for the prisoner? And many more. Finally: "What is the prisoner's name?"

"Mole," said Otter.

"Bring me the Mole file!" cried the Official and an underling raced in with a document folder. "Avert your eyes, gentlemen, the contents of this file are a State Secret. … Ah, the charges against Mr Mole are severe, but he has not been brought to trial as yet. … I see no difficulty."

Otter and Ratty were escorted to the 'visiting room' to await the prisoner. This room was divided in two by closely set iron bars, floor to ceiling. Their half was furnished with comfortable arm chairs and thick carpets; the prisoner's half had a bare stone floor, no furniture whatever, and bare stone walls set with iron rings. After a while they heard the clanking of chains and the stomp of the gaolers' boots, and the chained and manacled prisoner was brought in through the far door. Two jaws dropt: it was immediately obvious that this prisoner was not their friend Mole! Ratty, however, quickly recognised who it was. While the guards were busy attaching the prisoner's chains to a wall ring he whispered in Otter's ear, "It's the wizard, Radagast. What do we do?"