Seeing how completely prostrated his companion seemed to be, the officer turned to him as they reached the entrance to the private apartments and said, quietly—
“Perhaps you will show me a room where I and my officers can have some refreshment. We are starving. You can tell your servants that they have nothing to fear. I will see that they are not insulted; and then perhaps you would prefer to be alone.”
“Thank you,” faltered Roy, speaking in a strange, dazed way, as if he were in a dream.
“Come, be a man, sir,” said the officer, rather sternly. “It is the fortune of war. A young soldier must not lose heart because he finds he is a prisoner. There, meet me at breakfast-time, and you and I will have a chat together. But listen first before you go: do not attempt any foolish, reckless pranks in the way of trying to escape. I tell you honestly, the castle will be so guarded and watched that it would be madness.—By the way, where are Lady Royland’s apartments?”
Roy pointed to a door.
“Tell her when you see her that there is nothing to fear. But Master Pawson told me that he would place guards over her.”
Roy drew a deep breath but said nothing, merely contented himself with pointing out the dining-room and library to his conqueror. Then he stopped at his own door.
“Your room? Very well; take my advice, and have a few hours’ sleep,” said the officer, opening the door, entering, and looking round by the light of the dim lamp. “Where does that big window open upon?”
“The garden,—the court-yard.”
“And that narrow slit?”