Montague was a little taken aback.
“You’re bearing up pretty well,” he observed.
“What have I got to bear up about?” Jacob demanded. “I’ve just had a damned good meal.”
Montague regarded his prisoner with a gleam of admiration in his face.
“You’re a well plucked ’un, Pratt,” he observed. “What a saddle of mutton we’ve just had for dinner!”
“Nothing to the sirloin I’ve just had,” Jacob rejoined.
Hartwell pushed a flask of water and a hunk of bread through the grating.
“Here,” he said, “do you feel like giving a tenner for a whisky and soda?”
“I’m not thirsty, thanks,” Jacob replied, collecting his supper. “These will make an excellent meal for me.”
“He’s a little wonder,” Montague muttered.