the hour of ten
It was the front of that row of houses , therefore , that had to be kept in view . Marshalled by Roger , the men flattened their meagre bodies against the walls of the houses opposite , and after that there was nothing to do but wait . To wait in the darkness of the night , with a thin , icy rain soaking through ragged shirts and tattered breeches , with bare feet frozen by the mud of the road -- to wait in silence while turbulent hearts beat well-nigh to bursting -- to wait for food whilst hunger gnaws the bowels -- to wait for drink whilst the parched tongue cleaves to the roof of the mouth -- to wait for revenge whilst the hours roll slowly by and the cries of the darkened city are stilled one by one ! Once -- when a distant bell tolled the hour of ten -- a loud prolonged laugh , almost impudent in its suggestion of merry insouciance , echoed through the weird silence of the night . Roger felt that the man nearest to him shivered at that sound , and he heard a volley or two of muttered oaths . `` The fox seems somewhere near , '' he whispered . `` Come within .