At first she thought that this figure must be a corpse thrust here out of the way of the living, it was so stirless.

But corpses do not sigh as this man seemed to do.
Who could he be, she wondered?
A prisoner like herself, left to die, as, perhaps, she would be left to die?
The light grew a little.

Surely there was something familiar about the shape of that white head.

She crept nearer, thinking that she might be able to help this old man who was so sick and suffering.

Now she could see his face and the hand that lay upon his breast.