XIV
THE STONE COPING
This was bad luck! Clo had not expected O'Reilly to track her down sosoon. But he was at the door. There was only that frail barrier of wood,and the space of a few seconds between them! He had discovered the lossof his door key, and doubtless the other loss as well. He had guessedwho was the thief, and what was the thief's motive. He had hurried home.A moment more--just the little delay of fitting in a pass key--and hewould catch the culprit red-handed; he would deprive her of the spoils!
Clear as a "cut in" from some moving picture, a scene rose beforeClodagh's eyes. She saw herself at grips with O'Reilly. She saw himwrench the envelope from her hands as she resisted. She saw herselfsobbing over her failure and Angel's lost hopes. That picture mustn'tcome true! The key attached to the watch-chain, she had removed from thesafe door, and had laid watch and all on a buffet. Beside them she hadplaced the door key. Now, as the chambermaid chattered in the corridor,and O'Reilly made light of his loss, Clodagh moved faster than anyfigure in a moving picture. She snatched up everything on the buffet,pushed all into the safe, softly shut the steel door, concealed it withthe panel which slipped readily into its groove, and fled into theadjoining bedroom.
Lights from across a court showed that the sole doors were those of abath and a clothes-closet. There was no way out from the bedroom.Entrance and exit to the suite were to be had only through the sittingroom.
"I might have known," Clo reflected. Too late she recalled that throughthe nearest door had appeared the couple in evening dress. She wascaught like a mouse in a trap (poor mouse, who had meant to gnaw theencircling net!) caught unless--unless! Her heart gave a leap as she sawthe one way out.
The night was warm, and the window had been opened wide to let in theblue dusk. Light from opposite windows giving on the court shone upon astone coping. It was broad, as copings go, broad enough for some whiteroses dropped from a window above to lodge without falling farther. Itwas this conspicuous splash of white on the dark stone which put intoClo's mind the word "unless."
The chambermaid was rattling her pass key in the lock. If the thing wereto be done, it must be done now! Yes, that stone coping ran all the wayalong under O'Reilly's window as well as those opposite. It was quitefourteen or fifteen inches in width, Clo thought, and was placed twiceas many inches below the window sill. It would be easy to step down onto the ledge; and only a short distance away was the window of the nextroom, a room in the suite occupied by the couple she had seen. Thatwindow was open, like O'Reilly's. Clo could be sure of this, because thelace curtains were blowing out in the draught from some other window.They were of thick lace covered with embroidery, and if one could catchhold of a curtain as it blew the stuff wouldn't tear. As for the stolenenvelope, it was safe in one of those odd, new-fashioned pockets ofhers. Hastily she made it more secure with a big pin, by which shefastened it to the cloth of her dress. Thus both hands were free. But ittook courage to start!
"Oh, I must, I must do it!" she thought, her body ice, her soul aflame."It's for Angel! If I don't look down, I shall be all right. And even ifI fall and smash like an egg I'll be no worse off than before she savedme. I'll be back just where I was that day."
Uninvited, the chambermaid had followed O'Reilly into the next room. Shewas talking volubly, hoping that he'd mislaid the door key, that ithadn't been stolen. Clo, in making her dash for the bedroom, had quietlyclosed the door between, but she could hear that the two were talking.
Anyhow, the girl tried to think, it was the first step that cost! Onceoutside the bedroom window, plastered against the wall, the danger ofbeing caught was over. O'Reilly would search the clothes-closet, andpeer into the bath. Then he would suppose that the bird was alreadyflown. Never would he dream that a girl would dare what she meant todare.
Oddly enough, that reflection decided Clo to act. For the moment, fearleft her free. She stepped briskly over the window sill with one foot,and landed on the ledge. It felt solid, almost comforting; but as shegroped for it with the other foot, horror caught her again, pouredthrough her veins like iced water and made her heart feel a dead thing.She tried not to think of anything except that kind curtain flapping inthe wind. She clung to the window-frame with fingers so damp that theyslipped on the stone. Holding on for dear life--yes, life was dear, nowit hung by a thread!--she edged along, her cheek scraping the wall asshe moved. One step, two, three--another would take her so far that shemust let go of the window frame. Could she reach the blowing curtain? Afew moments ago it had seemed to beckon. Now she depended on it thewhite folds eluded her hand. If the wind dropped, she was lost. Shecouldn't help thinking of all the things she wished not to think of. Shethought of that immense depth below her narrow perch. She didn't believethe man or woman lived strong-minded enough to forget it!
As she reached out with her free arm for the curtain, a light sprang upfrom the room she had left. O'Reilly was there, searching for her. Ithad been simple to say, while she stood on a solid floor, that he wouldnot look out of the window. But he might look out: he might hear herfeet shuffling along the ledge. If his head appeared now, she wouldfall.
The girl began to shake all over like a winter leaf on a high branch.She would have to go, she thought. But the curtain was blowing verynear, so near that she ventured another step. The lace brushed herfingers. With a last effort she grasped a fold. Courage came back. Nowshe had let go of O'Reilly's window frame. She had passed on beyond hopeof return, and yet she had no firm grasp upon the curtain. Before itcould give the support a rope gives a climber, she must slowly,patiently, draw it toward her inch by inch until she had it taut.
"Angel, are you praying for me?" she wondered. Because she could notpray for herself. She could only count. Dimly, she felt it odd that itshould calm her nerves to count each time her fingers closed upon thecurtain. But it did calm them.
"Seven, eight, nine, ten." The fold of lace began to be taut. Drawing ittoward her, she started on once more on that endless journey of a fewinches. Thank heaven, the light in O'Reilly's bedroom had been switchedoff. The man must have given up the chase, and gone back to the sittingroom. For the present she was safe from him. But what a queer word"safe" was, just then. "Eleven, twelve, thirteen." Thanks to the curtainrope, she had almost reached her goal. "Fourteen, fifteen." She had gotso far that she could let the curtain go and fling her arms over thewindow sill. She threw her body upon it, and lay still for an instant,utterly spent now the strain was over. But was it over? No, not yet. Ifher feet slipped from the coping, she would have no strength for theeffort of climbing in at the window. She would hang for a minute andthen--drop.
"The papers," she reminded herself, for a mental tonic. "They're sonearly safe now. Brace up, Clo! A minute more and you'll be out oftrouble."
The room beyond was, like O'Reilly's, unlighted. Thank goodness, there'dbe no squalling lady's maid to give an alarm. Clo allowed herself timeto breathe, resting on the window sill. Then she prepared to drawherself over. Wrapping the curtain round her right hand, and clutchingthe lace firmly with her left hand, she found a heavy piece of furniturejust inside the window. It seemed to be a dressing-table with a mirrorsuspended between two spiral posts. Grasping one, Clo pulled the tablecloser, till it refused to move. This gave a lever on which she mightdepend. She clung to the curtain and post, till she could plant firstone knee, then its fellow, on the window sill. It seemed an easy thingto do, and would have been easy had not her strength been nearly spent.Her quivering muscles responded slowly to this last call, but they didrespond. Soon she was kneeling on the window sill. Then one foot wasover, groping for the floor. She had just found it when a key grated ina lock, and before she could hide behind the curtains a door openedwide. A flood of light streamed in from the corridor, and outlined herwhite form against the blue background of the night.
The Lion's Mouse Page 14
