One kicked the box in which I lay, and thrust a bayonet down through the loose papers, barely missing my shoulder.

With teeth clinched I remained breathless, but the fellow seemed satisfied, and moved on, after searching the dark corner beyond.

At last I heard them all go out, mumbling to each other, and ventured to sit up again, and draw a fresh breath.

They had left the door ajar, and I had a glimpse through the crack.

Farrell was leaning carelessly in the outer doorway, smoking, his short legs wide apart, his expression one of total indifference.