“A whole pottle of sack!” exclaimed his wife, in a tone of disappointment; “and here was I at home, as dry in this outlandish hot weather as the children of Israel at Rephidim, when they did chide Moses because there was no water to drink.”  “You might have brought your own Margery a taste,” she added, reproachfully.

“Did I say I had a whole pottle?  If I did, I spoke only in a figure, as one may say; for there was Ephraim Pike to help me make away with it, and you know his gullet is like a London sewer.  Love your bright eyes, Margery, a quart of sack stands no more chance with Ephraim, when his nose once gets scent of the liquor, or his lips touch the edge of the mug, than a mouse among a dozen cats.”

“Or than it has with you, Sam.  But men be all alike; they be always guzzling; they never think of their poor wives.  Here am I, Margery Bars, thine own help-meet, never away from home; never running about streets and going to Governor’s houses to swill sack; never”—­but here the voice of the discontented woman, who, in her excitement, had risen from her seat and walked away, was lost in the pantry, or rather subdued into an inarticulate grumble; and Spikeman, after waiting awhile, and finding it improbable that the conversation would be resumed, knocked in a peculiar manner on the door, which was almost immediately opened by Bars himself.

“Hath the order for the soldier’s release arrived from the Governor?” inquired the Assistant.

“It hath, worshipful sir; he is to be dismissed in the morning,” answer the jailer.

“Hast said anything about it to Joy, as I requested thee not?”

“He knows no more concerning it than the logs of his dungeon,” said Bars.

“Then get the keys, and means to strike a light.”

Without replying, as one accustomed to obey such orders, the jailer provided himself in a few moments with the articles required.  He placed an unlighted candle in the lantern, and the two proceeded to the door of the jail.

“He is your only prisoner, I believe?” said Spikeman.

“None other,” answered Bars.

“Remain outside by the door.  I would speak a moment with him.”

The jailer, in silence, put one key into the lock and opened the door, and gave another to Spikeman, and then stationed himself as directed, outside.

Spikeman entered, and closed the door after him; then striking a light, advanced like one well acquainted with the place.  The space wherein he found himself was an entry or passage-way, some four feet wide, running along the four sides of the prison, and enclosing the cells in the middle, The security of the prisoners was greatly promoted by this arrangement, two walls being necessary to be broken in order to effect escape, and communication with persons without being thus made more difficult.