That, perhaps, was the reason why he awoke at once when the heavy key began to turn again in the lock.

He sat up on the cot--he had not undressed--and his hand instinctively slipped to his belt, where there was no weapon.
The key was certainly turning in the lock, and then the door was opening! A shadow appeared in the space between door and wall, and John's first feeling was of apprehension.

An atmosphere of suspicion had been created about him and he considered his life in much more danger there than it had been when he was first a prisoner.
The door closed again quickly and softly, but somebody was inside the room, somebody who had a light, feline step, and John felt the prickling of the hair at the back of his neck.

He longed for a weapon, something better than only his two hands, but he was reassured when the intruder, speaking French, called in a whisper: "Are you awake, Mr.Scott ?" It was surely not the voice and words of one who had come to do murder, and John felt a thrill of recognition.
"Weber!" he exclaimed.
"Yes, it's Weber, Mr.Scott." "How under the sun did you get here, Weber ?" "By pretending to be a German.

I'm an Alsatian, you know, and it's not difficult.