Some, indeed, were more than
suspected of having been deliberately starved to death.
However, Malcolm had gone through so many adventures that even the
scene which he had witnessed and his own captivity and uncertain fate
were insufficient to banish sleep from his eyes, and he reposed as
soundly on the heap of straw in the corner of his cell as he would
have done in the carved and gilded bed in the apartment which had
been assigned to him in the castle.
The sun was shining through the loophole of his dungeon when he
awoke. For an hour he occupied himself in polishing carefully the
magnificently inlaid armour which Wallenstein had presented him,
and which, with the exception of his helmet, he had not laid aside
when he sat down to the banquet, for it was very light and in no
way hampered his movements, and except when quartered in towns far
removed from an enemy officers seldom laid aside their arms. He
still retained his sword and dagger, for his captors, in their haste
to finish the first act of the tragedy, and to resist any rising
which might take place among the soldiery, had omitted to take them
from him when they hurried him away.
On examination he found that with his dagger he could shove back
the lock of the door, but this was firmly held by bolts without.
Thinking that on some future occasion the blade might be useful
to him, he pushed the dagger well into the lock, and with a sharp
jerk snapped it off at the hilt.
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