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Wrapped in prison blankets of a soiled and tattered condition, Hendon and
the King passed a troubled night. For a bribe the jailer had furnished
liquor to some of the prisoners; singing of ribald songs, fighting,
shouting, and carousing was the natural consequence. At last, a while
after midnight, a man attacked a woman and nearly killed her by beating
her over the head with his manacles before the jailer could come to the
rescue. The jailer restored peace by giving the man a sound clubbing
about the head and shoulders--then the carousing ceased; and after that,
all had an opportunity to sleep who did not mind the annoyance of the
moanings and groanings of the two wounded people.
During the ensuing week, the days and nights were of a monotonous
sameness as to events; men whose faces Hendon remembered more or less
distinctly, came, by day, to gaze at the 'impostor' and repudiate and
insult him; and by night the carousing and brawling went on with
symmetrical regularity. However, there was a change of incident at last.
The jailer brought in an old man, and said to him--
"
The villain is in this room--cast thy old eyes about and see if thou
canst say which is he."
Hendon glanced up, and experienced a pleasant sensation for the first
time since he had been in the jail. He said to himself, "This is Blake
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