"Mercy!" Mole found tongue to exclaim. "I trust—I implore that your highness will at least spare my wretched life, for I declare——"
"Away with him," interrupted the pasha.
So the unhappy Mole was taken off in chains to his dungeon, bread and water, and horrible anticipations of his ultimate fate.
CHAPTER LXXVII.
MOLE IN "THE DEEPEST DUNGEON"—HOPES OF RESCUE.
The unfortunate Isaac Mole was now reduced to a position unprecedented even in his varied career.
He was placed in the "deepest dungeon" of the old castle, which was used as the town gaol, in a cold stone cell all to himself, and a couple of fierce-looking bashi-bazouks to watch him.
Bread and water—both of the stalest—constituted poor Mole's only fare, and his lodging was literally "on the cold, cold ground."
The constant fear of a terrible doom haunted him.
It was the third night of his incarceration, and about the middle of the night Mole was kept awake by his own depressing thoughts, together with the gambols of the rats that infested the dungeon.