Presently morning came, and I was able to see more plainly where I was, and what my prison was like. The place was really a cellar, and but little light found its way there. True, there was a window; but it was very narrow, revealing a small aperture, the sides of which were composed of strong masonry. Over the aperture was a heavy iron grating, which grating was on a level with the courtyard. The window, too, was securely guarded with heavy iron bars. The door was strongly made of oak, and iron studded. The sight of these things made my heart heavy; escape seemed impossible. The hours dragged heavily on, and I grew weary of waiting. But presently I heard footsteps outside. The two knaves who had obeyed the bidding of Otho Killigrew entered, one bearing food and the other my clothes. Neither spoke, although the one I had known as Sam Daddo looked less surly than the other. I remembered that he was a lover of Mistress Nancy Molesworth's serving-maid, and tried to think how I could turn this fact to account. They did not stay, but presently returned, bringing a small, roughly made couch. "Evidently," I thought, "it is intended that I shall be kept a prisoner for some time." After this I was left alone. It is needless to say that I tried to make many plans of escape; but they all died at their birth, for each seemed more futile than the other. I tried the strength of the window bars, and found that they did not yield to pressure. I listened at the door in the hope of hearing sounds whereby I might be able to more exactly locate my prison. This also was in vain. At mid-day another meal was brought to me, but no word was spoken. Still I did not despair. True, I dared take no steps for escape through the day, for footsteps were constantly crossing the courtyard outside. But when night came I would try the window bars again. I noticed an iron clamp on the couch which had been brought. Possibly I could use that as an instrument whereby I could prise open the window. My spirits, I remember, kept wonderfully high, for I could not fully realize that I was a prisoner. In truth, the whole matter seemed to me a sort of dream out of which I should presently awake. For on analyzing my thoughts, I saw no reason why I should be interested in Mistress Nancy Molesworth. Indeed, I laughed at myself as a foolish dreamer for refusing to promise not to render her any assistance should she wish to escape Otho Killigrew. Perhaps my bargain with old Peter Trevisa and his son had somewhat to do with it. The rest I put down to the foolish impulse of the moment. For why should the memory of her face make me grow angry with Otho? Were I a woman, I would rather be wedded to him than to young Peter Trevisa. Concerning Benet's behaviour, I could come to no definite conclusion, although I formed many conjectures. But I did not trouble, for presently I fancied I saw a weakness in my prison, and thought I saw a means of obtaining my freedom.