That very afternoon brought the opportunity for which she was waiting. The other women retired for their naps, and the men went to the billiard room. The lower halls were deserted, and she had little difficulty in making her way unseen to the door that led to the basement. Here she paused irresolutely, the recollection of the dismal, grasping solitude that dwelt beyond the portal sending again the chill to her bones. She remembered that Turk had hung the lantern on a peg just inside the door, and she had provided herself with matches. To turn the key, open the door, pass through and close it, required no vast amount of courage, for it would be but an instant until she could have a light. Almost before she knew what she had done, she was in the drafty, damp stairway, and the heavy door was between her and her unsuspecting captors. With trembling, agitated fingers she struck a match. It flickered and went out. Another and another met the same fate, and she began to despair. The darkness seemed to choke her, a sudden panic rushed up and overwhelmed her fainting courage, and with a smothered cry of terror she turned to throw open the door. But the door refused to open! A modern spring lock had set itself against her return to the coveted security of the halls above. A deathly faintness came over her. She sobbed as she threw herself against the stubborn door and pounded upon its panels with her hands. Something dreadful seemed to be crawling up from behind, out of the cavernous hole that was always night. The paroxysms of fear and dread finally gave way to despair, and despair is ever the parent of pluck. Impatiently she again undertook the task of lighting the lantern, fearing to breathe lest she destroy the wavering, treacherous flame that burnt inside her bleeding hands. Her pretty knuckles were bruised and cut in the reckless pounding on the door. At last the candle inside the lantern's glass began to flicker feebly, and then came the certainty that perseverance had been rewarded. Light filled the narrow way, and she looked timidly down the rickety stone steps, dreading to venture into the blackness beyond. Ahead lay the possibility of escape, behind lay failure and the certainty that no other opportunity would be afforded her. So she bravely went down the steps, her knees weakly striking against each other, the lantern jangling noisily against the stone wall. How she managed to reach the chamber under the tower she could not have told afterward; she did not know at the time. At last, however, she stood, with blood chilled to the curdling point, in the center of the room that knew the way to the outside world. Pounding on the rocky walls with a piece of stone against which her foot had struck, she at length found a block that gave forth the hollow sound she longed to hear. Here, then, was the key to the passage, and it only remained for her to discover the means by which the osbtruction could be moved from the opening.