His mind, by degrees, assumed a more tranquil state; and, exhausted with his great previous fatigue, he threw himself upon the floor of his prison-house, and addressed himself to slumber. The noise he made induced Coates to enter the room, which he did with a pistol in each hand, followed by Titus with a pipe and candle; but finding all safe the sentinels retired.
"One may see, with half an eye, that you're not used to a feather-bed, my friend," said Titus, as the door was locked. "By the powers, he's a tall chap, anyhow—why his feet almost touch the door. I should say that room was a matter of six feet long, Mr. Coates."
"Exactly six feet, sir."
"Well, that's a good guess. Hang that ugly rascal, Tim; he's never brought the whisky. But I'll be even with him to-morrow. Couldn't you just see to the prisoner for ten minutes, Mr. Coates?"
"Not ten seconds. I shall report you, if you stir from your post."
Here the door was opened, and Tim entered with the whisky.
"Arrah! by my soul, Tim, and here you are at last—uncork it, man, and give us a thimbleful—blob! there goes the stopper—here's a glass"—smacking his lips—"whist, Tim, another drop—stuff like this will never hurt a body. Mr. Coates, try it—no—I thought you'd be a man of more taste."
"I must limit you to a certain quantity," replied Coates, "or you will not be fit to keep guard—another glass must be the extent of your allowance."
"Another glass! and do you think I'll submit to any such iniquitous proposition?"
"Beg pardon, gentlemen," said Tim, "but her ladyship desires me to tell you both, that she trusts you will keep the strictest watch upon the prisoner. I have the same message also from Sir Ranulph."