Yet that which he had gleaned from his opposite neighbour was enough to furnish him with sufficient food for miserable reflections all through the remainder of the day, and far into the night when he lay sleepless on his unclean bed. Bluet had visited him twice during that period, bringing him two more meals--each good enough in its way, and with different meats at each, but badly cooked; and on the second occasion, and when he could perceive through the lattice that night was coming on, the turnkey had offered to let him have some light if he wished it. High up above the latticed window there was an iron socket into which a candle could be fitted, or on to which a lamp might be swung, and Bluet had volunteered to bring in a ladder and place the light there if Elphinston desired it. But he replied, "No, he wanted nothing. He would try to sleep till daybreak, try to rest. The day had been long enough for him already." "_Ma foi! sans doute!_" the fellow replied, he seeming neither more nor less drunk than he had been at nine o'clock in the morning. "_Sans doute_, monsieur is fatigued, yet he must not lose heart. If the judges do not release him ere long, he shall be moved to another chamber where, perhaps, he will have some society. There is plenty here. Of all sorts. Then monsieur will be gay." "Gay!" exclaimed Bertie. "Gay! In this place?" "And why not? Oh, figure to yourself, there is gaiety here and to suffice. Hark now to that! Hark, I say!" and at the moment he spoke Bertie heard a voice in his own tongue trolling forth a drinking song. "Ha! ha! _Mon Dieu!_" exclaimed the turnkey, "it is the gallant captain. Also a captain like monsieur, but of the road. They say he stopped the Cardinal's carriage at Fontainebleau not so long ago, yet this he denies. And a spy, too, of England, they say. He plays the big game. _Mon Dieu!_ listen! he sings well, though I understand no word of your somewhat severe and sombre tongue." Severe and sombre though it might be, it did not sound so as the gallant captain shouted forth his drinking song. "He's gay," said Bluet; "he has found a new companion--one, however, who will scarce join in his mirth. A miserable creature sent in by the priests, a murderer, they hint. _Mon Dieu!_ either he will desolate the captain or the captain will drive him mad with his carousings." After which, and having wished Bertie "a good-night and good repose," he took himself off, and, ere the latter slept, he could have sworn he heard Bluet's harsh voice joining in a song with the captain, though this time in the French language.