Ten o’clock
Crouching in their cave , the two French thugs eagerly watched the winding path below , and gathered a resentful vulpine ferocity in their hearts . With knife in one hand , and the heavy lead-weighted blackjacks in readiness , they cowered upon the path , waiting for the old soldier , whose thickened eyes were still sullenly gazing at the dingy clock in the Jersey Arms . He hated to leave the pretty , white-armed Ann . Ten o'clock ! The red-coated soldiery of Fort Regent and Elizabeth Castle , the guardians of Mont Orgueil , were all wrapped in slumber , save the poor , shivering sentinels . Ten o'clock ! The drenched tide waiters at St. Heliers pier anathematized the still distant Stella , whose lights now blinked feebly , laboring far out at sea .