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Pray think of it for yourselves, men and women, if you have not _sworn_
never to think over a novel. Think of it for your own sakes: Alfred's
turn to-day, it may be yours to-morrow.

CHAPTER XXXII
AT two o'clock an attendant stole on tiptoe to the strong-room, unlocked
the door, and peeped cautiously in. Seeing the dangerous maniac quiet, he
entered with a plate of lukewarm beef and potatoes, and told him bluntly
to eat. The crushed one said he could not eat. "You must," said the man.
"Eat!" said Alfred; "of what do you think I am made! Pray put it down and
listen to me. I'll give you a hundred pounds to let me out of this place;
two hundred; three."
A coarse laugh greeted this proposal. "You might as well have made it a
thousand when you was about it."
"So I will," said Alfred eagerly, "and thank you on my knees besides. Ah,
I see you don't believe I have money. I give you my honour I have ten
thousand pounds: it was settled on me by my grandfather, and I came of
age last week."
"Oh, that's like enough," said the man carelessly. "Well, you _are_
green.


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