Tom had seen upon entering that a light had been quickly extinguished, otherwise he would have seen clearly through the chinks who the occupant was.

He knew perfectly that every word they spoke could be overheard, and every action they performed duly watched; and he entered into the game of play acting with a zeal that gave him greater aptitude than he had thought to possess.
He strove to get his master to take the broth that one of the men brought up; he entreated him not to give way; and finally he agreed that it would be impossible for the sick man to attempt further travel, and offered himself to bear the packet of letters into Italy.
Then came the projected piece of play acting--the ripping up of the doublet, the sewing of the sealed packet into Tom's clothes, promises, directions, warnings, all given with apparent feeble energy, and received with faithful eagerness.
And all the while Tom was aware that close to them, just behind the thin partition, other eyes were watching, other ears listening to all that passed.

He could even hear the short breathings of repressed excitement, and almost feel the keen gaze which he knew was constantly bent upon him.
When all was done to the satisfaction of the sick man, Tom extinguished the light, and lay down beside him on the rude bed.
After his long sleep of the previous day, he cared little whether he slumbered or not--indeed, it seemed better that he should keep awake.

His head was full of the adventure which lay before him, and he was almost certain that he heard whispering voices either in the next room or below; by which he guessed that their enemies, having discovered all they wanted to know, were now laying their plans how best they might carry out their own designs..