Then silence. Jean returned to the cottage, where he rinsed the basin which had been used for dyeing purposes, put things straight, unbolted the front door, climbed up into the little _soupente_, drawing the ladder after him, and there laid himself flat, under a pile of loose rubbish. Soon he was or pretended to be asleep. Roy’s sleep was no pretence. Despite his hard bed, and the “stuffiness” of the limited atmosphere which he had to breathe, despite fear of gendarmes and risks of discovery, he was very soon peacefully sound asleep, and knew no more for the next two hours. Something roused him then. In a moment he was wide awake; his heart thumping unpleasantly against his side. The gendarmes had come. Roy of course could see nothing; he could only hear; and he heard a good deal more than might have been expected from his position, since his senses were quickened by the exigency of the moment. Also, the men made a good deal of noise, after the manner of gendarmes. Roy imagined that three or four of them must be there. They made their way first into the cottage, surprised to find the door on the latch, and nobody within. The fact of finding the door thus tended to allay their suspicions, as Jean had hoped. On the face of matters, nothing was less probable than that fugitives hiding within should not so much as have drawn the bolt. They walked round the one room, knocking things about a little. One of them looked vaguely about for a ladder, but seeing none he did not trouble himself further as to the _soupente_. Then they left the cottage, and entered the _bûcher_, where the wood was solidly and firmly piled together, as for the winter’s use. No signs here of human life. Roy below the pile lay motionless, every faculty concentrated into listening. One of the men kicked down a few faggots, and another pulled at a log. To Roy it sounded as if they were making their way to where he was. But the search stopped at last, after what seemed to Roy a small century of suspense, and they took themselves off. He heard them mount their horses and trot away. “Safe!” murmured Roy, and in his heart there was a fervent “Thank God!” not spoken in words. He wondered whether Jean would come to him; but Jean remained absent; and Roy obeyed orders, staying where he was. Presently he dropped asleep again, and remembered nothing more for hours. How many hours he had no means of knowing. Where he lay, he was in pitch darkness. When he woke, he had the consciousness which we often have after sleep, of a considerable time having elapsed; but whether it was now morning or afternoon or evening he could not even guess. He only knew that he was growing frightfully weary of his constrained position, longing to get out and exert himself. To sleep more was not possible. He waited, minute after minute, wondering if the long slow day would ever come to an end. At length a voice sounded— “M’sieu!” “All right,” called Roy.