All was dark, and there was no sound but the ticking of the great Dutch clock in the shop below.
The clock! I had noticed it that evening--a great unwieldy structure like a coffin on end, and a dial above.

If I could but get down to it, while my assailants were up despatching me, I might yet have a chance of eluding them.

I could hear them discussing together at the foot of the stairs, and presently advance once more to the charge, not this time with my host as an advance-guard, but all together.

I slipped out into the passage, and hid in a dark corner at the head of the stairs, so close, indeed, that they all but brushed against me in passing.
"_Alors, il dort_," said my host, listening for a moment.

"No; he moves.