Their object, it turned out, was to examine the four walls and the floor very minutely, to see if the prisoners were making any holes or planning any attempt to escape.

They spent a full half an hour in routing out the prisoners and searching high and low with their lanterns, using great roughness and the most abominable talk.
Tristram watched their movements for some time, but at length curled himself up in his corner, which had already been explored.

He was closing his eyes, and putting a finger in each ear to shut out the riot, when a smart blow descended across his thighs.
One of the soldiers was belabouring him with the flat of a sword, as a hint to stand up.
Tristram did so, and now observed that a dozen of the men with whom he had marched during the two previous days were collected in a little group by the door.

He was taken by the arms and hustled forward to join them.

As he came close and could see their faces in the dingy twilight, he saw also that, though big, strapping fellows, the most of them were weeping, and shivering like conies in a trap.
He was still wondering at the cause of their agitation when the jailer reopened the door and they were marched out, down the stone stairs, then sharply to the right and along a narrow corridor.
A lamp flickered at the farther end, over a small door studded with iron nails; and before this door another small company of soldiers was drawn up in two rows of six, with their backs to either wall of the corridor.