He bade Gil good night.

Ways of banditti in any age or place were much the same! The room was small, with a rude and narrow bed.

There was a window, small, too, but open to the night.

Pouring through this there entered a vagrant procession of sound, with, in the interstices, a silence that had its own voice.

As the night deepened the procession thinned, at last died away.
When he undressed he had taken the letter to Senor Nobody and put it upon the table.