"
"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.
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