From time to time, from a door some distance along the side of the house, opening on to the wall, a white figure came out, stretched himself as if unable to sleep, looked for a while over the parapet down into the valley, appeared to listen intently, and then sauntered into the house again.
It was the cook, Hossein.

It was his custom.

Successive sentries had, for many nights past, seen him do the same; but in a country where the nights are hot, a sleepless servant attracts but little attention.
Upon the occasion of one of these visits to the parapet, he stood in an attitude of deep attention, longer than usual.

Then he carelessly sauntered back.

It was but a moment later that his face appeared at the window next to that of Charlie's bedroom.