Prowlers, made bold by the long silence in the nunnery, came and went under the very walls of the compound.

In the court, beside a candle, Ah Pat the compradore sat with a bundle of halberds and a whetstone, sharpening edge after edge, placidly, against the time when there should be no more cartridges.
Heywood and Rudolph stood near the water gate, and argued with Gilbert Forrester, who would not quit his post for either of them.
"But I'm not sleepy," he repeated, with perverse, irritating serenity.
"I'm not, I assure you.

And that river full of their boats ?--Go away." While they reasoned and wrangled, something scraped the edge of the wall.

They could barely detect a small, stealthy movement above them, as if a man, climbing, had lifted his head over the top.

Suddenly, beside it, flared a surprising torch, rags burning greasily at the end of a long bamboo.