Josephs was crouched shivering under the door of his cell, listening.

“All right now. I think they are all asleep; now is the time.”

Hawes, Hodges, Jones, Fry, were snoring without a thought of him they had left to pass the live-long night, clothed in a sponge, cradled on a stone.

DORMEZ, MESSIEURS! TOUT EST TRANQUILLE; DORMEZ!