Now, the four days I passed at the Stone House I was like to die for weariness and suspense.  The routine was unbroken.  I ate my breakfast in the kitchen with the woman and the two men watching me; for an hour thence I was free to exercise myself in the courtyard; all the days the grey fog hung dank in the hollow, and the cobbles were wet and slippery.  The silent Bart was always within reach of me; Martin watched me from the door, and the hound raved by the steps.  Thence I was locked in my room for the remainder of the morning; again brought down for dinner, again to exercise in the courtyard; finally to be locked in my room for the night.  At dark, Mother Mag brought me my supper of bread and water; ere midnight, Martin surveyed my room, to be assured that I was not attemptin............