I may have been insensible, or perhaps only sleeping soundly, when there came a jingling of keys, and a harsh grating of bolts. This aroused me.
“Get up,” commanded the jailer; “follow me.”
I rose, my hands trembling and my teeth chattering so that I could hardly re-arrange my clothes.
What fresh torture was in store for me? I dreaded to think.
At the first step I attempted to take I staggered and almost fell, but recovering myself, followed the turnkey.
After examining my fetters to make certain of their security, he led me through a long dark passage, up a flight of steps, down another, and through some intricate places, little more than tunnels. Unlocking a door, he bade me enter.
I did so, and found myself in a square cell, damp, and pitch dark, like my own. We had been joined by another jailer in our walk through the corridor, and both men entered with me.
As the lantern-light fell upon the straw I saw the cell was occupied; a man was lying there, fully dressed, and apparently asleep.
“Prisoner,” said the jailer, “take the clothes from off that man, dress yourself in them, and afterwards put your own on him.”
“But he will wake,” I said.