Success seemed almost assured as we started to remove the fabric from one of the larger walls, but here we met with our first obstacle. The fabric was fastened at the top and at the bottom with large headed nails, set close together, which withstood our every effort to tear it loose. Thin and light in weight, this remarkable fabric appeared absolutely indestructible and we were almost exhausted by our efforts when we were finally forced to admit defeat. The quick Barsoomian night had fallen and we might now, with comparative safety, remove the bar from the window and reconnoiter for the first time beyond the restricted limits of our cell, but hope was now low within our breasts and it was with little anticipation of encouragement that I drew myself to the sill and projected my head and shoulders through the aperture. Below me lay the somber, gloomy city, its blackness relieved by but a few dim lights, most of which shone faintly from the palace windows. I passed my palm over the surface of the tower that lay within arm's reach, and again my heart sank within me. Smooth, almost glass-like volcanic rock, beautifully cut and laid, offered not the slightest handhold--indeed an insect might have found it difficult to have clung to its polished surface. "It is quite hopeless," I said as I drew my head back into the room. "The tower is as smooth as a woman's breast." "What is above?" asked Nur An. Again I leaned out, this time looking upward. Just above me were the eaves of the tower--our cell was at the highest level of the structure. Something impelled me to investigate in that direction--an insane urge, perhaps, born of despair. "Hold my ankles, Nur An," I said, "and in the name of your first ancestor, hold tightly!" Clinging to two of the remaining bars I raised myself to a standing position upon the window ledge, while Nur An clung to my ankles. I could just reach the top of the eaves with my extended fingers. Lowering myself again to the sill, I whispered to Nur An. "I am going to attempt to reach the roof of the tower," I exclaimed. "Why?" he asked. I laughed. "I do not know," I admitted, "but something within my inner consciousness seems insistently to urge me on." "If you fall," he said, "you will have escaped the fire--and I will follow you. Good luck, my friend from Hastor!" Once again I raised myself to a standing position upon the sill and reached upward until my fingers bent above the edge of the lofty roof. Slowly I drew myself upward; below me, two hundred feet, lay the palace roof and death. I am very strong--only a very strong man could have hoped to succeed, for I had at best but a precarious hold upon the flat roof above me, but, at last, I succeeded in getting an elbow over and then I drew my body slowly over the edge until, at last, I lay panting upon the basalt flagging that topped the slender tower.