Break the door down and head to the jail
"No, but we could find it."
"OK--look, there's probably a way out somewhere in here, but I
can't find it, so we're going to have to break down the door."
"OK--I know judo. Stand back--HI-YA!!!" Bridget exclaims,
kicking the door as hard as she can. It is instantly dented. She kicks
it again, and the knob rattles enough to get the lock back to the
unlocked position. The two of you burst out of the closet and run into
Nurse Johnson, who is weeping.
"Girls, what..." she says through tears.
"We were locked in the closet, otherwise we would have been there
for the trial. Don't worry...we're going to go to the jail now. Can
you cover for us?"
"Yes--bless you girls--bless you!"
A few minutes later, you reach the jail with Bridget, having asked
directions. You ask the policeman at the desk where Christopher
Anderson is.
"Ain't got an inmate by that name," the policeman snaps.
"Now, you go on home...what's nice lasses like you doin' in a
place like this?"
"Looking for a friend," you say. "Well, actually, he's
our teacher, but..."
"I don't care who he is. I checked that list twice over--ain't no
Anderson listed."
"Are you sure? Young-ish guy...about five-four, green eyes, dark
hair, American accent--sounds like he could be from the South?"
you ask again.
"Nope--no such bloke on it, lassie."
"Well, if there were," you hedge, "about how much would
it cost to bail him out?"
"Depends on the crime, miss--for stealing, anywhere from five to
a hundred pounds, plus half crowns and such. For murder, no bail. For
arson...hmmm...the standard bail is ten pound eight, little extra
depending on what he torched."
"OK, thanks," Bridget says. You follow her back to the
school, dejected. Now what?
"Bridget," you whisper, "do you know where the jail
is?"
