The silence of the house made him feel restless.

"I'll go to bed," he exclaimed. "I may as well get all the sleep I can."

He went to his room, and stumbled towards the windows.

"I'll close the shutters while I'm undressing;" he went on. "I don't want to be 'potted' needlessly!"

He tried to see into the Park, but the great masses of trees that undulated like a rough sea, prevented him from seeing anything. There were figures at the gate ... on guard!

"I wonder if that little red-haired man's still there," he thought. "Poor devils! Some of them must feel damned queer to-night!..."

He closed the shutters, and switched the light on, and then, when he had undressed he darkened the room again. "I must have some air," he said, opening the shutters.

He climbed into bed. Now and then a rifle-shot was fired, and sometimes there was a succession of shots....

"In the morning," he said, as he turned on his side and closed his eyes, "they'll be cleared out of that!..."

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