Only an air-hole over his door admitted a very feeble light from the dimly illumined outer cellar.

He began to consider his situation, comforting himself with the reflection that at Monastery Heights he had been treated in much the same fashion, except that there his hands had not been bound.

He had been kept in confinement all night, and in the morning his terms of peace had been accepted.

This time, too, he hoped for a like issue.
When a cigar is smoked in the dark it lights up the smoker's face at each puff.

Suddenly a voice from out of the gloom called, "Manasseh!" "Who is there ?" "I." It was a gipsy, whose voice Manasseh recognised.