unwatched; there was no place where an eye could peer in on my movements. I dragged the box over to the window, stood on it, and managed to dislodge the bit of iron entangled in the grating. It proved to be part of a discarded horseshoe, flung there carelessly by some farrier, and contained three thin-headed nails. With difficulty I loosened one of these, and fitted the sharp edge into a screwhead of a shelf bracket. The nail afforded little purchase, and I tried three of the screws before finding one loose enough to turn. By this time my fingers were numb and bleeding, yet the final success set my heart throbbing with exultation.
The removal of the screw, which by chance was the lower one, enabled me to insert the remnant of horseshoe beneath the bracket iron. Slowly, fearful of creating alarm, this improvised lever wrenched the bracket free, until I was enabled to get firm grip on it with my hands. With foot braced, and every muscle strained, I worked that bit of iron back and forth, tearing it free, until I knew that another wrench would separate it entirely from its fastenings. Then I forced it back into place again, pressed down the loosened screws, carefully gathered together the slight debris littering the floor, and cast it into a dark corner. The bracket seemed as solid as ever. Now I must wait for night.
