It was drawing near the hour when the tumbrils were to come for the victims doomed on the day before.
Trudaine's ear could detect even the faintest sound in the echoing prison region outside his cell.

Soon, listening near the door, he heard voices disputing on the other side of it.

Suddenly, the bolts were drawn back, the key turned in the lock, and he found himself standing face to face with the hunchback and one of the subordinate attendants on the prisoners.
"Look!" muttered this last man sulkily, "there they are, safe in their cell, just as I said; but I tell you again they are not down in the list.

What do you mean by bullying me about not chalking their door, last night, along with the rest?
Catch me doing your work for you again, when you're too drunk to do it yourself!" "Hold your tongue, and let me have another look at the list!" returned the hunchback, turning away from the cell door, and snatching a slip of paper from the other's hand.

"The devil take me if I can make head or tail of it!" he exclaimed, scratching his head, after a careful examination of the list.