182 A JACOBITE EXILE

The next time he woke his brain was clearer, though
there was still a dull sense of pain where he had been
struck. Without opening his eyes he listened attentively.
‘There was some sound of movement in the room, and pres-
ently he heard a faint regular breathing. This continued
for some time, and he then heard a sort of grunt. “He
is asleep,” he said to himself, and opening his eyes
slightly looked round. He was in another chamber. It
was grimy with dirt, and almost as unfurnished as the cel-
lar, but there was a window through which the sun was
streaming brightly. He himself lay upon a heap of straw.
At the opposite side of the room was a similar heap, and
upon this a man was sitting, leaning against the wall with
his chin dropped on his chest.

The thought of escape at once occurred to Charlie.
Could he reach the window, which was without glass and
a mere opening in the wall, without awakening his guard,
he could drop out and make for Alan Ramsay’s. As soon
as he tried to move, however, he found that this idea was
for the present impracticable. He felt too weak to lift his
head, and at the slight rustle of straw caused by the at-
tempt, the man opposite roused himself with a start. He
gave another slight movement, and then again lay quiet
with his eyes closed. The man came across and spoke,
but he made no sign. Some more wine was poured be-
tween his lips, then the man returned to his former posi-
tion and all was quiet. As he lay thinking his position
over, Charlie thought that those who had set his assailants
to their work must have had two objects—the one to puta
stop to his efforts to organize an agitation against the
king, the second to find out by questioning him who were
those with whom he had been in communication, in order
that they might be arrested and their property confiscated.
He could see no other reason why his life should be spared
by his assailants, for it would have been easier and far less