"Bring a light, Thomaso," the guard shouted to his comrade outside. "It is getting dark in here."
The other brought a torch, and they carefully examined the floor of the cell.
"What is it that you are searching for?" Francis asked.
"I have dropped my dagger somewhere," the man replied. "I can't think how it fell out."
"When did you see it last?"
"Not since dinner time. I know I had it then. I thought possibly I might have dropped it here, and a dagger is not the sort of plaything one cares about giving to prisoners."
"Chained as I am," Francis said, "a dagger would not be a formidable weapon in my hands."
"No," the man agreed. "It would be useless to you, unless you wanted to stick it into your own ribs."
"I should have to sit down to be able to do even that."
"That is so, lad. It is not for me to question what the captain says, I just do as I am told. But I own it does seem hard, keeping a young fellow like you chained up as if you were a wild beast. If he had got Pisani or Zeno as a prisoner, and wanted to make doubly sure that they would not escape, it would be all well enough, but for a lad like you, with one man always at the door, and the window barred so that a lion couldn't break through, I do think it hard to keep you chained like this; and the worst of it is, we are going to have to stop here to look after you till the captain gets back, and that may be three weeks or a month, who knows!"