Sharples received them at the threshold, and holding his lantern towards the prisoners to acquaint himself with their features, nodded to Quilt, between whom and himself some secret understanding seemed to subsist, and then closed and barred the door. "And now," he continued, sternly, "was it your master who has just ridden by?" "No," answered Quilt, sullenly. He caught the smirk. ’ There was a chuckle in his voice. Rot, no doubt; but we can’t alter it. That was something in his favour. I don't know what you have done; I don't want to know now.
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