As may be imagined, sleep was out of the question, and tired as I should have been under ordinary circumstances, I felt no weariness.
When daylight shewed itself, even in the foul den where I lay, I fell to wondering how Mistress Constance's hiding place had been discovered, and how she, who had felt so certain of being able to avoid capture, should have allowed herself to be taken by such a clumsy set of yokels as those who brought her thither. I wondered much also where Master Leslie might be, and why he was not by his daughter's side. I at length concluded that he must perchance have gone to London, or he might have found it necessary to place himself in hiding.
Concerning the defence I proposed making for myself I meditated not one whit, for all my interests were swallowed up in those of the woman, the very thought of whom filled me with joy, and yet tore my heart with grief. It must have been perchance eight o'clock when the door opened, and Master Sturgeon entered.
"Ah, young Master Jackanapes," he cried. "So your sins, like chicken, have come home to roost?"
"No, Master Sturgeon," I said, looking him steadily in the face. "I so enjoyed your company when last I saw you that I have taken the first opportunity to meet you again."
"Anger me not, or it will go hard with you," he cried.
"As to that, anger me not," I cried, "or I will e'en tell the town clerk and the mayor what a fool you are. I will tell them how drunk you were, and that I could not only have set one prisoner at liberty, but every one you had under lock and key."
I saw that I had made him fear, although he put a brave face on it.
"Bah! Master Braggart," he cried, "you will see that I will not be again taken in by your boasting."
"I never said I was a zealous servant of the king, even while I became so drunk that I failed to do my duty," I replied. "As to being a braggart, Master Gaoler, I have told you nought but the truth. And this I swear, if Mistress Constance Leslie, or whatever you are pleased to call her, be not kindly treated, I will see to it that a true story of the way you conducted yourself be widely published. Ay, it shall even reach the king's ears. In which case you will no longer be a gaoler, but a prisoner."