air entered for Hector to breathe. He increased the opening somewhat
by pressing one of the sacks a little aside, but left it so that
he could readily pull it into its position in the morning. As
soon as Paolo reached the room he applied a blistering plaster to
his cheek and kept it on till he could no longer bear the pain,
then he threw himself down on his pallet. But neither he nor his
master slept much, Hector being kept awake by the heat and discomfort
of his position, and Paolo by the smarting of his cheek. As soon
as it was light the latter rose, and sat impatiently waiting for
the time when the gates would open. Looking into the courtyard,
he could see the troops coming out from their quarters and moving
about, then the gates opened, and, tying a bandage over his cheek,
he went down and crossed the yard.

"You are out early," the sergeant of the guard remarked.

He nodded. "I am nigh mad with pain," he said, pointing to his
cheek, "and I am going to get some salve from an apothecary."

"You seem to be bad indeed," the sergeant said commiseratingly,
"'tis a terrible inflammation."

Paolo went down to the spot where he had hidden the bundles in the
hollow of a tree. It was an unfrequented place, and slipping his
disguise over his clothes, after putting the pistols in his belt,
he took the second bundle and returned to a street through which
waggons leaving the castle must pass. A few minutes later he saw
them coming along. He had already stuffed his cheek full of tow,
and several people, struck with the raw and swollen appearance of
his face, had compassionately asked him what was the matter. He