Some doors were open to make conversation easier across the landing, and nobody was asleep.

But I was surprised to see Georges Coutlass leaning against the door-post of the room he shared with the other Greek and the Goanese, obviously on guard, but against whom and on whose behalf it was difficult to guess.
"Are you off to bed ?" he asked, piercing me with his unbandaged eye.
"Why don't the others go, too ?" It dawned on me what he was after.
"Take the wine if you want it," I said.

"None of us will prevent you." He went down-stairs in his stocking feet, leaving his own door wide.

I glanced in.

The other Greek and the Goanese were asleep.