No sound came from behind the closed door to the room where he had left the gunman, lying gagged and bound, as he trooped down the hall with the rest. The rear of the long corridor opened into a huge, airy apartment which ran the full width of the building. Screened windows opened on to verandas on three sides. The room looked like a hospital ward, with its long rows of cots. At the head of each bed was a wooden chest with a padlock for the owner’s belongings. A single sheet and a blanket were folded at the foot of the bed, under the pillow. Everything was neat, and evidently kept in the orderly arrangement of a military barracks. Framed signs on the four walls read, “Silence—No Talking.” Tom, though seemingly a genial soul, ruled with an iron hand.