His candle had burned nearly out, but the moon was bright enough to light his room without it, so he extinguished it and softly opened the door.
The passage was silent, the only sounds being the heavy breathing somewhere of a weary boy, and the occasional creaking of a board as he crept along on tip-toe.
At the end of the passage he turned aside a few steps to a door, and stood listening.

Some one was moving inside.

There was the rustle of a dress and the tinkle of a spoon in a cup.

Then he heard a voice, and oh, how his heart beat as he listened! "I'm tired," it said wearily.
That was all.

Jeffreys heard the smoothing of a pillow and a woman's soothing whisper hushing the sufferer to rest.
The drops stood in beads on his brow as he stood there and listened.
In a little all became quiet, and presently a soft, regular breathing told him that some one was sleeping.
He put his hand cautiously to the handle and held it there a minute before he dared turn it.