He told the landlord to prepare two trenchers to be carried upstairs, as he would sup with his friend that night; and he presently carried up the hot and steaming tankard, together with the platters of the savoury viands for which London was famous.
Edward had meantime kindled the rushlight and set light to a small fire on the hearth, for the weather was bitterly cold.

The peddler had advised Paul to partake of the hot draught also, and the landlord had not heeded his request to place a tankard of ale on the tray also: so that if either of the youths were to drink at all, it must be of the potion concocted by the peddler.
This fact greatly increased Paul's suspicions, which were quickly shared by Edward.
"We will not touch a drop of it," he said, "although it is tempting enough this cold night.

It is either drugged or poisoned, and given us to keep us a certain prey for tonight.

Perhaps in the end it will prove our best friend; for if they think us tied by the heel, they may be less vigilant in the watch they keep upon us." It was not with much appetite that the comrades ate their supper, but they knew that they might need all their strength before the next hours had passed, and they ate heartily from that motive.
Their trenchers had been so liberally piled, however, that there was plenty of broken meat and bread left when they had finished, and this was first allowed to grow cold, and then packed away into one of their wallets, as it might be some considerable time before they tasted food again, save such as they had with them.
Paul made several excursions from the room to ask for this thing or that, keeping up the fiction that his comrade was sick; and each time he did so he found some person or another guarding the door--at least watching hard by--though apparently bent upon some private errand.

He came to the conclusion at last that their movements were most certainly spied upon, and that to attempt to escape through the house that night would be impossible.