At
least he could _think_--think and pace up and down the narrow room with
its tiny barred window too high for a man to reach, and its hard camp
bedstead with the straw mattress, and go through the whole miserable
fabrication that had landed him there.
The second day of confinement brought him a visitor. It was 'Toinette.
His jailer--a rough-haired village-hand who had taken up with the "Force"
and wore the uniform as though it belonged to someone else (which indeed
it had)--brought him news of her arrival. It cut him like a lash to see
her thus, and yet the longing for her was so great that it superseded all
else. So he faced the man with a grim smile.
"I suppose, Bennett, that I shall be allowed to see Miss Brellier? You
have made enquiries?"
"Yes, sir." Bennett was crestfallen and rather ashamed of his duty.
"Any restrictions?"
Bennett hedged.
"Well--if you please--Sir Nigel--that is--"
"What the devil are they, then?"
"Constable Roberts give orders that I was to stay 'ere with you--but I
can turn me back," returned Bennett, with flushing countenance.
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