He signed to the captives to follow him.
They did so, and found themselves in a spacious room nearly twenty-five feet square. The floor was of stone, and it was nearly bare of furniture. In one corner there was a heap of bedclothes. Along one side was a bench, on which Amos Sanderson seated himself without asking permission.
“I feel about ready to drop,” he said. “My valise is as heavy as yours and Bernard’s together.”
“Have you a dress suit?” asked Bernard, laughing. “If our captors should give a ball in our honor you might need it.”
“It doesn’t seem like a very gay place. I have never been in jail, but this room carries out my idea of a dungeon cell.”
The room was indeed a gloomy one. There were windows, it is true, but so high up that they only admitted a limited amount of sunshine.
“Now, how long are they going to keep us? That is what I would like to know; and what object have they in detaining us?”
“I suppose,” said Cunningham, “they will keep us till they get the five thousand scudi.”
“Then they’ll wait a long time, I reckon.”
The bandits left the room, taking care to fasten the door on the outside.