ever written would not have taken his
attention, and he sat listening for the breathing in the next room, then
to the movements of the sentry outside as he moved from time to time,
changing feet, or taking a step or two up and down as far as the size of
the landing would allow. Then came a weary yawn, and the clock chimed
and struck twelve, while, before it had finished, the sounds of other
clocks striking became mingled with it, and Frank listened to the
strange jangle, one which he might have heard hundreds of times, but
which had never impressed him so before.

At last silence, broken only by the pacings of other sentries; and once
more came from the landing a weary yawn, which was infectious, for in
spite of his troubles Frank yawned too, and felt startled.

"I can't be sleepy," he said to himself; "who could at such a time?"
And to prove to himself that such a thing was impossible, and show his
thorough wakefulness, he rose, and once more walked into the chamber,
looked at the wounded lad, apparently sleeping calmly, and returned to
his seat to read.

And now it suddenly dawned upon him that, in spite of his desire to be
thoroughly wakeful, nature was showing him that he could not go through
all the past excitement without feeling the effects, for, as he bent
firmly over his book to read, he found himself suddenly reading
something else--some strange, confused matter about the house in Queen
Anne Street, and the broken door.

Then he started up perfectly wakeful, after nodding so low that his face
touched the book.

"How absurd!" he muttered; and he rose and walked up and down the room.
The sentry heard him, and began to pace the landing.

Frank returned to his seat, looked at the book, and went off instantly
fast asleep, and almost immediately woke up again with a start.

"Oh, this won't do," he muttered. "I can't--I won't sleep."

The next minute he was fast, but again he woke up with a start.

"It's of no use," he muttered; "I must give way to it for a few minutes.
I'll lie down, and perhaps that will take it off, and I shall be quite
right for the rest of the night."

Very unwillingly, but of necessity, for he felt that he was almost
asleep as he moved about, he rose, took up the blanket from the couch,
threw it round him like a cloak, punched up the pillow, and lay down.

"There!" he said to himself; "that's it. I don't feel so sleepy this
way; it's resting oneself by lying down. I believe I co