Someone had slipped those bolts in the night, and if that someone were Jimmy, Jimmy had kept his word.
It was with no gratitude that Professor Higginson cautiously and fearfully descended the stairs. He knew so little of men, that he dreaded further capture and some vigorous young scoundrel leaping upon him from an unexpected door. He passed three flights, each untenanted, furnitureless and quite silent, until he reached the hall.
The front door stood wide open. The delicious breath of the early summer morning came in, mixed with the twittering of birds. Still wondering and half doubting his good fortune, Professor Higginson was about to step out, when he remembered—what?—the Green Overcoat. He must face the ordeal of those stairs again. It was the bravest thing he had ever done in his life. It was the only brave thing he had ever done in his life. But fear of worse things compelled him. If that Green Overcoat were found and he were traced—he dared not think of the consequences.
His recent experience was far too vivid for him to dream of putting it on. He carried the great weight of it over his arm, and in the
