The prisoner had been sitting upon the sawdust about an hour, when the door opened again, and the two men entered, one bearing a bundle of blankets and a couple of pillows, the other a tray with a large cup of hot coffee and a plate of bread and butter.
“There, you see we shan’t starve you,” said the first man; “and you can make yourself a bed with these when you’ve done.”
“Will you leave me a light?”
“No,” says the man with a laugh. “Wild sort of lads like you are not fit to trust with lights. Good-night.”
The door of the inner cellar was closed and bolted, for it was not like ours, a simple arch; and then the outer cellar door was shut as well; and Mr Barclay sat for hours reproaching himself for his infatuation, before, wearied out, he lay down and fell asleep. How the time had gone, he could not tell, but he woke up suddenly, to find that there was a light in the cellar, and the two men were looking down at him.
“That’s right—wake up,” says the principal speaker, “and put on those.”
“But,” began Mr Barclay, as the man pointed to some rough clothes.
“Put on those togs, confound you!” cried the fellow fiercely, “or—”
He tapped the butt of a pistol; and there was that in the man’s manner which showed that he was ready to use it.
There was nothing for it but to obey; and in a few minutes the prisoner stood up unbound and in regular workman’s dress.