At three o'clock one of the policemen moved. I thought the man was coming—but all was silent again as before. I began to think that Madoc would take me for an impostor, to imagine how he would abuse me in the morning. And then my poor comrades, instead of aiding, I had only riveted their chains!
The time seemed now to pass only too rapidly. I wished the night might last forever, so as to preserve at least a ray of hope for me.
I was going over the same torturing fancies for the hundredth time—on a sudden, without my having heard the least sound—the window opened—two eyes gleamed in the aperture—nothing moved in the garret.
"They have gone to sleep!" thought I, in an agony of suspense.
The head remained there—motionless—watchful. The villain must suspect something! Oh! how my heart thumped—the blood coursed through my veins! And yet cold beads of sweat gathered on my forehead. I ceased to breathe.
Several minutes passed thus—then, suddenly, the man seemed to have decided—-he glided down into the garret, with the same noiseless caution as on the previous night.
But at the same instant a cry—a terrible, short, thrilling cry—vibrated through the room.
"We have him!"
Then the whole house was shaken from garret to cellar by cries—the stamping of feet—hoarse shouts. I was petrified by terror. The man bellowed—the others drew their breaths in quick gasps—then came a heavy fall which made the floor crack—and I heard only the gnashing of teeth and clink of chains.
"Light!" cried the terrible Madoc.