It was too damp to stir out of doors and the confinement of the hotel rooms became especially irksome.

Not only were they anxious about their own fate but it was far past the time when they should have heard from Henderson and Rondel.

Patsy's nerves were getting beyond her control; Uncle John stumped around with his hands thrust deep in his pockets and a frown wrinkling his forehead; the captain smoked innumerable pipes of tobacco and said not a word.

Von Holtz, noting the uneasiness of his charges, discreetly forbore conversation and retired to a far corner where he hid behind a book.
It was nearing evening when a commotion was heard on the stairs, followed by the heavy tramp of feet in the corridor.

A sharp rap sounded on the door of their sitting room.