The glare of a chance lantern lit up the faces of the two foremost.

One face wore a black half-mask, and under it the mouth was twisting about in such a madness of nerves that the black tuft of beard wriggled round and round like a restless, living thing.

The other was the red face and white moustache of Colonel Ducroix.

They were in earnest consultation.
"Yes, he is gone too," said the Professor, and sat down on a stone.
"Everything's gone.

I'm gone! I can't trust my own bodily machinery.