When he had remained thus a few minutes, his attention was roused by the sound of footsteps and of whispering voices close under his window.

Presently the key was put in the lock, the heavy bolt shot back, and the door creaked on its hinges as it opened slowly.
Gascoyne knew by the sound that several men entered the cell, but, as they carried no light, he could not tell how many there were.

He was of course surprised at a visit at such an unusual hour, as well as at the stealthy manner in which his visitors entered; but, having made up his mind to submit quietly to whatever was in store for him, and knowing that he could not hope for much tenderness at the hands of the inhabitants of Sandy Cove, he was not greatly disturbed.

Still, he would not have been human had not his pulse quickened under the influence of a strong desire to spring up and defend himself.
The door of the cell was shut and locked as quietly as it had been opened; then followed the sound of footsteps crossing the floor.
"Is that you, jailer ?" demanded Gascoyne.
"Ye'll know that time enough," answered a gruff voice, that was not unfamiliar to the prisoner's ear.
The others who had entered along with this man did not move from the door,--at least, if they did so, there was no sound of footsteps.

The man who had spoken went to the window and spread a thick cloth over it.
Gascoyne could see this, because there was sufficient light outside to make the arms of the man dimly visible as he raised them up to accomplish his object.