hopeless,--particularly with Billie outside, loaded revolver in hand,
nerved to the shooting point. I climbed again to the window, but the
casing was solidly spiked into position, and I could barely press my
head through the aperture into the open air. It was a thirty-foot sheer
drop to the hard gravel of the road beneath, the nearest tree limb a
dozen feet distant, with the roof edge far beyond reach of the hand. I
sat down in the chair, the blue smoke curling overhead, floating out the
window, my eyes studying the red-tinted side walls, as I endeavored to
recall each detail of the house's architecture, and the exact location
of this particular room.

I had turned to the left at the head of the stairway, passing by at
least three doors. Then there had occurred a slight jog in the hall,
making room for a large chimney, while just beyond opened this door. It
was not even visible from the front of the house, and would probably be
the rearmost apartment--no, that was wrong; the hallway, much contracted
in width, continued on into the ell. This was quite likely the first of
the servants' quarters, and that east wall must abut directly against
the chimney. With a new degree of hopefulness, I pushed aside the bed,
and began testing the wall space with my knuckles. If any chimney was
there, the stones were protected by wooden casing, which, covered by the
red paper, was effectively concealed. I was about to abandon the search
when a finger penetrated the paper, revealing a round opening--a pipe
hole, left uncovered except for the wallpaper. I wrenched out the tin
protector, and felt within. The chimney had apparently never been used,
the interior being clear of soot, and was built of a single layer of
stone, Southern fashion, the irregular fragments mortared together, and
plastered smoothly on the inside. Without was a thin, narrow planking,
dove-tailed, but secured by nails only at the four corners. This could
be easily pried away, leaving the chimney itself open to attack. I could