pantomime for her to draw it up. It took her some time to fasten
the ladder to one of the heavy pieces of furniture in the room.
Swaying from side to side, but clinging with frantic desperation
to the ladder while we did our best to steady it, she managed to
reach the ground. She turned from the building with a shudder, and
whispered:

"This terrible place! How can I ever thank you for getting me out
of it?"

Kennedy did not pause long enough to say a word, but hurried her
across to the final barrier, the wall.

Suddenly there was a shout of alarm from the front of the house
under the columns. It was the night watchman, who had discovered
us.

Instantly Kennedy seized a chair from a little summer-house.

"Quick, Walter," he cried, "over the wall with Mrs. Cranston,
while I hold him! Then throw the ladder back on this side. I'll
join you in a moment, as soon as you get her safely over."

A chair is only an indifferent club, if that is all one can think
of using it for. Kennedy ran squarely at the watchman, holding it
out straight before him. Only once did I cast a hasty glance back.
There was the man pinned to the wall by the chair, with Kennedy at
the other end of it and safely out of reach.

Mrs. Cranston and I managed to scramble over the wall, although