'Or,' said the Bishop, for she refused the proffered glass with an impatient gesture—could such a woman drink with such men? she refused, I say, with a shake of her head, 'for greater privacy to our own room. It is on the third floor. No one will venture to intrude upon us—and there is a chair. I fear that, in the neglect, which is too common in this place, the beds are not yet made,' He looked as if the morning wash had not been performed either.
'What do I care, sir,' she asked, interrupting again, 'whether your beds are made or not? I shall stay here,' She withdrew a little nearer to the wall beside my window, so as to be outside the throng of people. 'We can talk, I suppose, undisturbed, and unheard, though, so far as I care, all the world may hear. Bless me! The people look as if a woman was a rare object here.' She looked round at the crowd. 'Yet there are women among your prisoners. Well, then, what have you got to say? Speak up, and quickly, because I like not the place or the company. You wrote to me. Now go on.'
'I wrote to you,' said the Bishop, 'asking a great favour. I know that we have no reason to expect that or any other favour from you.'
'You have no reason. But go on.'
'We came here, you know'—his voice dropped to a whisper, but I heard what he said—'in order to escape a great danger.'
'I heard. You told me. The danger was in connection with a gentleman and a post-chaise.'
'A villainous charge,' said the Captain.
'Villainous indeed,' repeated the Bishop. 'I could prove to you in five minutes and quite to your satisfaction that the Captain was engaged at Newmarket on the day in question, while I myself was conducting a funeral in place of the Vicar in a country village thirty miles on the other side of London.'
'An excellent defence, truly. But I will leave that to the lawyers. Well, the debt was sworn against you by Mr. Merridew.' I pricked up my ears at this because this was the name of the man, as you shall hear, who swore a debt which never existed against me. Could there be two Merridews?
'That was mere form. Unfortunately other detainers are out against both of us. I know not how they found out that we were here. Mr. Merridew refuses to take us out. He says that he thinks our time is up, and so he knows that we are safe.' He shuddered. Afterwards I understood why. 'There is the danger that we may have to remain here till he takes us out. As for our present necessities—' He drew out his purse and dangled it—a long purse with a very few guineas in it. 'You see, Madam, to stay here, where there is no opportunity of honest work, is ruin and starvation.'