Rupert sat quiet on the bench for an hour or two before his eyes became sufficiently accustomed to the darkness to see anything, for but the feeblest ray of light made its way through so small a loophole in a wall of such immense thickness.

“The governor was right,” he muttered to himself.  “A month or two of this place would kill a dog.”

It was not until the next day that the gaoler made his appearance.  He was not the same who had hitherto attended him, but a powerful-looking ruffian who was evidently under no orders as to silence such as those which had governed the conduct of the other.

“Well,” he began, “and how does your worship like your new palace?”

“It is hardly cheerful,” Rupert said; “but I do not know that palaces are ever particularly cheerful.”

“You are a fine fellow,” the gaoler said, looking at Rupert by the light of his lantern.  “I noted you yesterday as you came down, and I thought it a pity then that you would not say what they wanted you to.  I don’t know what it is, and don’t want to; but when a prisoner comes down here, it is always because they want to get something out of him, or they want to finish with him for good and all.  You see you are below the level of the moat here.  The water comes at ordinary times to within six inches of that slit up there.  And in wet weather it happens sometimes that the stream which feeds the moat swells, and if it has been forgotten to open the sluice gates of the moat, it will rise ten feet before morning.  I once knew a prisoner drowned in the cell above this.”

“Well,” Rupert said, calmly.  “After all one may as well be drowned as die by inches.  I don’t owe you any ill will, but I should be almost glad if I did, for then I should dash your brains out against the wall, and fight till they had to bring soldiers down to kill me.”

The man gave a surly growl.

“I have my knife,” he said.

“Just so,” Rupert answered; “and it may be, although I do not think it likely, that you might kill me before I knocked your brains out; but that would be just what I should like.  I repeat, it is only because I have no ill will towards you that I don’t at once begin a struggle which would end in my death one way or another.”

The gaoler said no more; but it was clear that Rupert’s words had in no slight degree impressed him, for he was on all his future visits as civil as it was within his nature to be.

“Whenever you wish to see the governor, he will come to you.” he said to Rupert one day.

“If the governor does not come till I send for him,” Rupert answered, “he will never come.”