It required almost superhuman exertion to keep himself from dropping sheer away, and the rope burned his palms.

But he held on, knowing that he must hold, and the stone wall felt cold to him, as he lay against it, and slid slowly down.
Perhaps his strength, which was more of the mind than of the body, partly gave way under such a severe strain, but he felt pains shooting through his arms, shoulders and chest.

His most vivid recollections of the descent were the coldness of the wall against which he lay and the far tinkle of a mandolin which came to him with annoying distinctness.
The frequent knots where he had tied the strips together were a help, and whenever he came to one he let his hands rest upon it a moment or two lest he slide down too rapidly.
He had been descending, it seemed to him, fully an hour, and he must have come down a mile, when he heard the rattle of a saber.

It was so distinct and so near that it could not be imagination.

He looked in the direction of the sound and saw two dark figures in the street.