"Oh, I will see to it, young master," he said hurriedly.
"The turnkeys will be either drunk or asleep, but I can open all doors. Come with me. Not but I would rather it had been to-morrow, for the ale was strong, and try as I may I cannot help being sleepy."
He led the way into the gaol courtyard, a small and—as I plainly saw in the moonlight—an ill-kept place,—and then proceeded to open the door which led into the building.
The prison was as silent as death. In the distance I heard the noise of those who were still at their carousals, as well as many whom we had passed in the streets. Some were singing the songs which had been composed about the coming of the king, others were quarrelling, while others still were shouting in their drunken revelry; but here all was as still as death. I saw that Master Sturgeon spoke truly when he said the strong ale had got into his head. He fumbled much with his keys, and in truth seemed wellnigh asleep.
"You will speak well of me to the king, young master," I heard him mumble; "ay, and you ought, for there is not in all the realm a more zealous subject of his Majesty. God save the king!"
"How many gaolers have you here?" I asked, my heart beating fast, for now that I had once entered the prison the reality of what I was trying to do came to me with more vividness than ever.
"How many?" he replied solemnly, "not many; besides, doth not the king ride to London to-day? And have they not been drinking the king's health, even as I have?"
"And is it not right to drink the king's health?" I made answer.
"Right? ay, that it is. Besides, a sup of ale would make me awake again. Well thought of."
Without even stopping to lock the door behind him, he made his way to a room near the entrance, where after much ado, having lit a candle, he found a jar of ale.