Mr. Shifnal set the lamp down on the floor close to the Duke’s head, and looked at him closely. “That’s the barber!” he said cheerfully. “I thought you was backt at one time, guv’nor, but there’s nothing like a real rum bub for a cull as has been grassed. Not but what you didn’t have no more than a lick, but I doubt it done you good. I got some cat-lap here for you, seeing as how you was as sick as a cushion, and maybe used to pap. If you was to sit up, you could sup it down, couldn’t you?”
“Presently,” said the Duke. “Put it on the floor, if you please.”
Mr. Shifnal grinned down at him. “It ain’t no use for you to be cagged, guv’nor. The blow’s been bit, and you’ll have to stand buff if you want to get out of this cellar alive. Which, mind you, there’s some as holds you didn’t ought to get out alive, but I wouldn’t wish you to think I was one of them, because I ain’t. You drink up that cat-lap, and maybe you’ll feel able to talk business, which is what I come for.”
While he unburdened himself of this speech, not much of which was comprehensible to his prisoner, the Duke was taking unobtrusive stock of his surroundings. The cellar in which he lay was paved with stone flags and had no window. Its only outlet appeared to be the door through which Mr. Shifnal had entered and to which he held the ponderous key. As it opened inwards, there would be little chance of breaking out through it. The roof of the cellar was vaulted; it was quite a large room, and seemed to be used as a dumping-place for all manner of rubbish. A broken chair, several rusted cooking-pots, some sacks, an old broom, one or two cans, and a litter of broken casks and boxes and empty bottles were all it contained, except for the mattress on which the Duke lay.
Having taken this in, the Duke brought his gaze to bear on Mr. Shifnal, who had squatted down beside him on a folded sack. He saw that he had a pistol tucked into his boot, and said: “I thought when I first saw you that you were a groom, but I fancy I was wrong: you are a highwayman.”
“It don’t matter to you what my lay is,” responded Mr. Shifnal. “Maybe I’ll be a gentleman, and live at my ease afore many days is gone by.”
“Maybe,” agreed the Duke. “Or maybe you’ll be on your way to Botany Bay. One never knows,”
“Hard words break no bones,” said Mr. Shifnal. “Mind I don’t blame you for feeling peevy! It ain’t a pleasant thing to be bowled out, and you little more than a halfling. But don’t you worry, guv’nor! You’re well-equipt, you are, and there ain’t nothing to stop you loping off any time you says the word. The cove as wants to carry you out feet first ain’t here just at the moment. But he’s a-coming back, and it would be as well for you if you were gone afore he gets here. Now, maybe it’s because you’re just a noddy, or maybe it’s because I allus had a weakness for a game chicken, which I’ll allow you are, but I’ve taken quite a fancy to you, dang me if I ain’t! and I wouldn’t like for you to be put to bed with a shovel afore your time. You grease me in the hand, guv’nor, and do it handsome, and I’ll let you go afore this other cove comes back.”
“How long have I been here?” asked the Duke, asthough he had not attended to a word of this.
“You’ve been here ever since close on eleven last night, and you’ll likely—”