tragedy. Here was opportunity. Down below, on the front steps, stood the
old judge, and beside him Miss Hardy, forgetful for the time of all else
save those passing troops. I sprang from the chair, drew the bed back to
the centre of the room, and began my assault on the wall. There was no
necessity now for silence, and I dug recklessly into the mortar with my
broken knife blade, wrenching forth the loosened stones, until I had
thus successfully opened a space amply sufficient for my purpose. A
glance down the chimney was not reassuring, no gleam of light being
visible, yet I was desperate enough to take the chance of discovering
some opening below. There remained but this one means of attaining the
lower floor, and no time for hesitation. I tore both sheets from the
bed, binding them securely together, and twisting them into a rope
strong enough to sustain my weight. The bed-post served to secure one
end; the other I dropped down the interior of the chimney. A glance from
the window exhibited a double line of canvas-covered wagons creaking
past, mules toiling wearily in the traces, under close guard of a squad
of infantry. The judge and the girl were still outside. I was back
instantly, and clambered recklessly into the hole.

I went down slowly, clinging desperately to the twisted sheets, unable
to gain the slightest purchase on the smoothly plastered side walls. My
fingers slipped, but I managed to hang on until I reached the very end
of my improvised rope, my feet dangling, my arms aching from the weight.
To hold on longer was seemingly impossible, yet I could neither see nor
feel bottom. I let go, confident the distance could not be great, and
came down without much shock a half-dozen feet below. I was in a large
fire-place, apparently never utilized, the opening entirely covered by a
screen of cast-iron. This fitted closely, but was unfastened, and, after
feeling about cautiously in the darkness, I pushed it slightly to one
side, and peered forth.