"No. I was spared the trouble. At this moment the poor fellow is probably in the other world."
"Have you killed him?" said the Count, with terror.
"For what does your excellency take me? One may yield to the prayers of a prisoner, and secure a fortune by permitting him a few hours' exercise, yet be no murderer. If Crespo dies, it is in consequence of his unfortunate passion."
"Was he in love?"
"No. He was fond of water-rats."
"Horrible appetite."
"Not at all," said the jailer. "Crespo says the animal is very savory, especially when fat as those in the ditches of the castle are. The waters bear hither all the offal of Naples, and the rats live like canons."
"And Crespo eats them?"
"He has a passion for game of that kind, and does nothing but hunt them. He makes some very ingenious traps to catch them with. I do not molest him, because the taste is so innocent, and besides, saves me the expense of several cats."
"But how came that passion to endanger Crespo's life?"