He tore the sleepers away from their places, but they were not aware of it; as soon as he let them go they rolled back again into their former positions.
"What has happened ?" cried the confounded Szilard.
"There must be a traitor among them, sir, a hireling of Fatia Negra; he has his hirelings everywhere, in forests, in palaces, in dungeons, in barracks, everywhere.

And this traitor has mingled thorn-apple juice in the drink of his comrades and they will now sleep on for a night and a day.

The traitor himself is pretending to sleep along with his fellows but he is only awaiting the arrival of Fatia Negra and then up he will get and release the captives.

It was an artful dodge, your honour!" Szilard felt a tremor running through all his limbs.
"You see, sir, you are here alone, but Fatia Negra is never alone.

But so far no great harm has been done.