John Willet, left alone in his dismantled bar, continued to sitstaring about him; awake as to his eyes, certainly, but with allhis powers of reason and reflection in a sound and dreamless sleep. He looked round upon the room which had been for years,and was within an hour ago, the pride of his heart; and not amuscle of his face was moved. The night, without, looked black andcold through the dreary gaps in the casement; the precious liquids,now nearly leaked away, dripped with a hollow sound upon the floor;the Maypole peered ruefully in through the broken window, like thebowsprit of a wrecked ship; the ground might have been the bottomof the sea, it was so strewn with precious fragments. Currents ofair rushed in, as the old doors jarred and creaked upon theirhinges; the candles flickered and guttered down, and made longwinding-sheets; the cheery deep-red curtains flapped and flutteredidly in the wind; even the stout Dutch kegs, overthrown and lyingempty in dark corners, seemed the mere husks of good fellows whosejollity had departed, and who could kindle with a friendly glow nomore. John saw this desolation, and yet saw it not. He wasperfectly contented to sit there, staring at it, and felt no moreindignation or discomfort in his bonds than if they had been robesof honour. So far as he was personally concerned, old Time laysnoring, and the world stood still.
Save for the dripping from the barrels, the rustling of such lightfragments of destruction as the wind affected, and the dullcreaking of the open doors, all was profoundly quiet: indeed, these sounds, like the ticking of the death-watch in the night,only made the silence they invaded deeper and more apparent. Butquiet or noisy, it was all one to John. If a train of heavyartillery could have come up and commenced ball practice outsidethe window, it would have been all the same to him. He was a longway beyond surprise. A ghost couldn"t have overtaken him.
By and by he heard a footstep--a hurried, and yet cautiousfootstep--coming on towards the house. It stopped, advanced again,then seemed to go quite round it. Having done that, it camebeneath the window, and a head looked in.
It was strongly relieved against the darkness outside by the glareof the guttering candles. A pale, worn, withered face; the eyes-butthat was owing to its gaunt condition--unnaturally large andbright; the hair, a grizzled black. It gave a searching glance allround the room, and a deep voice said:
"Are you alone in this house?"
John made no sign, though the question was repeated twice, and heheard it distinctly. After a moment"s pause, the man got in at thewindow. John was not at all surprised at this, either. There had been so much getting in and out of window in the course of the lasthour or so, that he had quite forgotten the door, and seemed tohave lived among such exercises from infancy.
The man wore a large, dark, faded cloak, and a slouched hat; hewalked up close to John, and looked at him. John returned thecompliment with interest.
"How long have you been sitting thus?" said the man.
John considered, but nothing came of it.
"Which way have the party gone?"
Some wandering speculations relative to the fashion of thestranger"s boots, got into Mr Willet"s mind by some accident orother, but they got out again in a hurry, and left him in hisformer state.
"You would do well to speak," said the man; "you may keep a wholeskin, though you have nothing else left that can be hurt. Whichway have the party gone?"
"That!" said John, finding his voice all at once, and nodding withperfect good faith--he couldn"t point; he was so tightly bound--inexactly the opposite direction to the right one.
"You lie!" said the man angrily, and with a threatening gesture.
"I came that way. You would betray me."
It was so evident that John"s imperturbability was not assumed, butwas the result of the late proceedings under his roof, that the manstayed his hand in the very act of striking him, and turned away.
John looked after him without so much as a twitch in a single nerveof his face. He seized a glass, and holding it under one of thelittle casks until a few drops were collected, drank them greedilyoff; then throwing it down upon the floor impatiently, he took thevessel in his hands and drained it into his throat. Some scraps ofbread and meat were scattered about, and on these he fell next;eating them with voracity, and pausing every now and then tolisten for some fancied noise outside. When he had refreshedhimself in this manner with violent haste, and raised anotherbarrel to his lips, he pulled his hat upon his brow as though hewere about to leave the house, and turned to John.
"Where are your servants?"
Mr Willet indistinctly remembered to have heard the rioters callingto them to throw the key of the room in which they were, out ofwindow, for their keeping. He therefore replied, "Locked up."
"Well for them if they remain quiet, and well for you if you do thelike," said the man. "Now show me the way the party went."
This time Mr Willet indicated it correctly. The man was hurryingto the door, when suddenly there came towards them on the wind, theloud and rapid tolling of an alarm-bell, and then a bright andvivid glare streamed up, which illumined, not only the wholechamber, but all the country.
