had in mind: the trunk-closet, from which, she remembered remarking, a
window opened upon a fire-escape. It was barely possible, a fighting
chance.

She closed the door, grateful that its latch slipped silently into place,
and fairly flung herself upon the window, painfully bruising her soft hands
in vain endeavor to raise the sash. It stuck obstinately, would not yield.
Too late, she remembered that she had forgotten to draw the catch--fatal
oversight! A sob of terror choked in her throat. Already footsteps were
hurrying down the hall; a line of light brightened underneath the door;
voices, excitedly keyed, bandied question and comment, an unmistakable
Irish brogue mingling with a clear enunciation which she had but too great
reason to remember. The pair had passed into the next room. She could hear
O'Hagan announcing: "No wan here, sor."

"Then it's the dining-room, or the trunk-closet. Come along!"

One last, frantic attempt! But the window catch, rusted with long disuse,
stuck. Panting, sick with fear, the girl leaped away and crushed herself
into a corner, crouching on the floor behind a heavy box, her dark cloak
drawn up to shield her head.

And the door opened.

A flood of radiance from the relighted student lamp fell athwart the floor.
The girl lay close and still, holding her breath.

Ten seconds, perhaps, ticked on into Eternity: seconds that were in
themselves eternities. Then: "No one here, O'Hagan."