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As soon as he had gained his feet, he glanced round the bare blank walls of the cell, and, oppressed by the musty, close atmosphere, exclaimed, "I'll let a little fresh air into this dungeon. A pig, yes, a little. Sir Rowland," he added, in a deep whisper, "do you agree to my terms?" "I do," answered Trenchard, in the same tone. I'm not sure I'd go out with him anyway. Directly in range stood the strange young man, although he was at the far side of the loft. "My horses, Charcam," he said, as a servant appeared.
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