The light of a lamp carried by the bellringer showed the dreary extent of
the vault, and the enormous thickness of its walls.
"A night's solitary confinement in this place will be of infinite service to
our prisoner," said the Duke of Shoreditch, gazing around. "I'll be sworn
he is ready to bite off the foolish tongue that has brought him to such a
pass."
The butcher made no reply, but being released by the arquebusiers, sat
down upon a bench that constituted the sole furniture of the vault.
"Shall I leave him the lamp?" asked the bellringer; "he may beguile the
time by reading the names of former prisoners scratched on the walls
and in the embrasures."
"No; he shall not even have that miserable satisfaction," returned the
Duke of Shoreditch. "He shall be left in the darkness to his own bad
and bitter thoughts."
With this the party withdrew, and the door was fastened upon the
prisoner. An arquebusier was stationed at the foot of the steps; and the
Earl of Surrey and Captain Bouchier having fully satisfied their curiosity,
shaped their course towards the castle gate. On their way thither the
earl looked about for Morgan Fenwolf, but could nowhere discern him.
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