I heard her move away from the direct neighborhood of the door, her
steps sounding distinctly on the polished floor. Then something heavy,
probably a chair or bench, was drawn forward, following which all was
silence. Although I could see nothing the situation in the hall was
clear. Confident escape was impossible in any other direction the
determined girl had taken up her position opposite the door, prepared
for a long vigil. All feeling of anger, even of irritation, had by this
time left me. The slight falter, the womanly softness of her voice, had
robbed me of all resentment, and I was conscious merely of admiration
for her courage and loyalty. But I desired intently to stand equally
high in her memory, and in order to do so must exhibit my own wit, my
own resources in emergency. I felt the door--it was of solid oak, with
no spot of weakness evident, even the key-hole being concealed by a
metal flap on the outside. The room itself was small, the walls tinted
red, and contained no furniture except a narrow bed and one
straight-backed chair. Light was admitted through a small window, placed
so high in the wall I was compelled to stand on the chair to look out, a
mere round opening through which it would be impossible to squeeze my
rather stalwart body. It was almost a typical prison cell, apparently
affording not the slightest opportunity for escape. I had a pipe in my
pocket, and matches, so I lit up, and lay back on the bed, reviewing the
situation.

I am not of the disposition which surrenders easily, and my long
experience as a scout had inured me to difficult ventures. Almost
invariably there are means of escape, if one is fortunate enough to
discover the point of weakness and possesses sufficient time in which to
work. Yet as I lay there, my eyes anxiously scanning those bare, solid
walls, my brain working coolly, the problem appeared unsolvable. The
door, of hard-wood, fitting tightly into the jambs, was