They were ashen grey to the lips.

No one could move to get out of the way: the chains prevented that.

The Huguenot was praying wildly.
Only the Turk preserved his composure, and even he had turned pale under his bronze skin.
Somebody cried: "Lie flat!" In a second every one of Tristram's companions had flung himself flat on the bench.

Tristram glanced again at the gun.

Even at that moment he had enough presence of mind to note that it was pointed downwards, and at such an angle that those who lay flat must infallibly receive all its contents.