Bertie could have danced, and sung, and stood on his head, and comported himself generally like a juvenile madman; but he refrained, His time was coming; he would be able to comport himself as he liked in two hours and a half, but at present the word was caution. It was arranged that all the boys who remained should sleep in the same room. There were only five: Edgar Wheeler, Tom Graham, little Willie Seymour, a boy whose parents were in India named Hagen, and commonly called Blackamoor, and Bertie Bailey. The first into bed was Bailey. Not a word was to be got out of him edgeways. He was a model of good behaviour. He even pressed the others to hurry into bed, to go to sleep, to let him sleep. They slept long before he did. He lay awake tingling all over. He listened to their regular respirations--Hagen was a loud snorer and always set up a signal of distress--and when he was sure they were asleep he hugged himself in bed. Then he sat up, being careful to make as little noise as possible, and in the darkness peered at his sleeping comrades. Their gentle breathing and Hagen's stentorian snores were music in his ears. Then he lay back in bed again, biding his time. He heard a clock strike the half-hour--half-past ten. It was a church clock. He wondered which. The night was calm, and the sound travelled clearly through the air; it might have been a long way off. And then--then he went to sleep. It was not at all what he intended--very much the other way. He had supposed that he had only to make up his mind to lie awake till twelve o'clock to do it. But he was wrong; the strain at which he had kept his faculties through the day had told upon him more than he had supposed. He awoke with a start--with a consciousness that something was wrong. He listened for a moment, wondering what strange thing had roused him. Then he remembered with a flash. The time had gone and he had slept. With a half-stifled cry he sprang up in bed. What time was it? Had he really slept? Only for a minute or two, he felt sure. He groped his way to Graham's bed. That young gentleman slept with his watch beneath his pillow; Bailey was awkward in his attempts to get at it without waking the sleepy owner. He got it, and took it to the window that he might see the time. Half-past two! soon it would be light--Bertie was almost inclined to think it was getting lighter now. He gave a cry of rage, and the watch dropped from his hand to the floor. Startled, he turned to see if the sleepers were awakened by the noise. He held his breath to listen. They slumbered as before. He picked up the watch and placed it on the mantelshelf, not caring to run the risk of rousing Graham by replacing it beneath his pillow. As he did so, he noticed that the glass was broken, shattered in the fall.