After this I was left alone. It is needless to say that I tried to make many plans of escape; but they all died at their birth, for each seemed more futile than the other. I tried the strength of the window bars, and found that they did not yield to pressure. I listened at the door in the hope of hearing sounds whereby I might be able to more exactly locate my prison. This also was in vain.
At mid-day another meal was brought to me, but no word was spoken.
Still I did not despair. True, I dared take no steps for escape through the day, for footsteps were constantly crossing the courtyard outside. But when night came I would try the window bars again. I noticed an iron clamp on the couch which had been brought. Possibly I could use that as an instrument whereby I could prise open the window.
My spirits, I remember, kept wonderfully high, for I could not fully realize that I was a prisoner. In truth, the whole matter seemed to me a sort of dream out of which I should presently awake. For on analyzing my thoughts, I saw no reason why I should be interested in Mistress Nancy Molesworth. Indeed, I laughed at myself as a foolish dreamer for refusing to promise not to render her any assistance should she wish to escape Otho Killigrew. Perhaps my bargain with old Peter Trevisa and his son had somewhat to do with it. The rest I put down to the foolish impulse of the moment. For why should the memory of her face make me grow angry with Otho? Were I a woman, I would rather be wedded to him than to young Peter Trevisa. Concerning Benet's behaviour, I could come to no definite conclusion, although I formed many conjectures. But I did not trouble, for presently I fancied I saw a weakness in my prison, and thought I saw a means of obtaining my freedom.
My evening meal was brought by a serving-man whom I had not hitherto seen, accompanied by Sam Daddo. Just as if I remained a guest, I spoke to Daddo in a friendly fashion, and asked after the health of his master. He spoke no word in reply, however, although I was sure I saw him wink at me in a meaning way. I was not slow to interpret this, especially when, a few seconds later, I saw it repeated. He remained silent, however, in spite of my frequent questions, so I gave up talking, continuing only to watch. This was not in vain, for as the strange serving-man was passing out of the door, Sam, in following him, put his right hand behind his back and revealed a piece of paper. This I snatched at eagerly, though noiselessly, wondering what it might mean.
Ere long I was able to examine it, for my gaolers locked the door, and I listened to their footsteps as they traversed a passage, and climbed some stone steps.
Lifting my couch, and placing it against the door so that I might not be surprised, I went to my window and unfolded the piece of paper I had taken from Sam Daddo's hand. Only a few words were written thereon, but enough to give me food for thought. This was what I read:
"I hope I have misjudged you. Forgive me if I have. I have heard of all that took place after you left me last night. I grieve much that you should be a prisoner because of me; but means may be offered for your escape. I need a friend sorely, for I am in dire danger, and I am a weak, ignorant girl. Once at Polperro, I should be safe. The one who gives you this may not help you, although he would not willingly harm me. Unless help comes I shall be wedded to O. in a week, and I welcome the thought of death more."
As I said, this missive gave me much food for thought. It was evidently written by Mistress Nancy Molesworth. Little consideration was needed, moreover, to assure me that she must be in sore straits or she would not have sought to enlist the sympathy of a prisoner. A few hours before she had spurned me as a liar. But I bore her no grudge for that—I had deserved it. It was apparent Sam Daddo had told his sweetheart what had passed between Otho Killigrew and myself. He had doubtless listened at the door, and heard all. This, perchance, had led the maid to write me. Yet she knew not what was in my mind, and must risk much in trusting me. She seemed to regard my escape as a possibility, and therefore built upon it. I must confess, too, that her helplessness appealed to me, and a feeling of joy surged in my heart at the thought of striking a blow for her liberty.