was six feet five, I would still find myself at least ten feet short
of the window ledge. Happily a new idea struck me almost at once.

In a jiffy, half a dozen carpenters were at work constructing a
substantial ladder out of scantlings, while I stood over them in serene
command of the situation.

The Schmicks segregated themselves and looked on, regarding the window
with sly, furtive glances in which there was a distinct note of
uneasiness.

At last the ladder was complete. Resolutely I mounted to the top and
peered through the sashless window. It was quite black and repelling
beyond. Instructing Britton and the two brothers to follow me in turn,
I clambered over the wide stone sill and lowered myself gingerly to
the floor.

I will not take up the time or the space to relate my experiences on
this first fruitless visit to the east wing of my abiding place. Suffice
to say, we got as far as the top of the stairs in the vast middle
corridor after stumbling through a series of dim, damp rooms, and then
found our way effectually blocked by a stout door which was not only
locked and bolted, but bore a most startling admonition to would-be
trespassers.

Pinned to one of the panels there was a dainty bit of white note-paper,
with these satiric words written across its surface in a bold, feminine
hand:

"_Please keep out. This is private property._"