hall to be in darkness. So she carefully descended her improvised scaling-ladder, looked about the room and proceeded to wrench one of the rocker-rods from the antique chair that stood in the corner. This, she concluded, would serve both as an instrument of defense and a possible weapon of assault, if the need arose. And before she had gone far, she felt, there would be every promise of that need. She also broke away a piece of the dilapidated bamboo table, to serve as a rod to hold open the transom. Then she twisted and knotted her two lengths of cotton rope together, tying one end securely to the door-knob and placing the other, to which she had already tied her wooden rocker-rod, within reach at the couch-top. Then, having slipped off her shoes and tied them about her neck, she switched out the light and groped her way back toward the door.
She clambered up the treacherous spring-tiers as best she could, cautiously feeling for the transom. Having swung it open, she placed her bamboo support beneath it. She next reached for the rocker-rod tied to the rope-end, carefully lowering it through the opened transom. Then she took a deep breath, for she knew the hardest part of her task
