Now had the moment come for all my courage. Slowly moving my hands one beyond another, I disengaged my feet from the inner edge of the sill and for a moment hung head downwards. Would the rope hold? If not, I should crash upon the pavement beneath me, a broken, lifeless mass. But it held! As I felt my toes slipping down the slope of the sill, I twisted my body to one side so that my feet and legs described a half-circle, and for a moment I swung to and fro against the wall like the pendulum of a clock. Then I lowered myself quickly. Before the last of the rope had run through my hands my feet were upon the ground, and I was free. Somewhere a voice, close beside me, whispered, "No sae bad. No sae bad." Turning, I saw Hector. He patted me on the back, and then whispered anxiously, "I hope you ha’ena forgot to bring my Horace?" I could have screamed with laughter, but all I did was to nod my head with vigour. Then I took the cord from between my teeth and proceeded to haul upon it. The bundle at its end caught for a moment as it was passing through the window, and then fell, a dark mass out of the heights above, and I caught it as it fell. Hastily I put it into Hector’s hands, and seizing the lower end of the rope jerked it once--twice--thrice. The loop above disengaged itself from the stanchion, and in its fall struck me upon the upturned face. The town-clock struck once. "Half-fower," whispered Hector. "For God’s sake let us hurry." Quickly I coiled the rope up into a hank. Hector seized me by the arm and half dragged me across the street to a close mouth. When I tried to thank him he stopped me. "There’s nae need o’ that. Awa’ wi’ ye to Lincluden. Haste ye! Below the big window ye’ll fin’ a flicht o’ steps. The second moves when ye step on it: but never mind--that’s naething. The fifth seems firm: but it’s no’. I’m the only man that kens that. Shove hard at the left-hand bottom corner--and crawl in when it swings roun’, and stop there till I come for ye. Mary’s a’ richt and in safe hands. Dinna fash yersel’ aboot her; but gi’e me the rope. I lifted it off the Provost’s drying-green, and though I may be a liar, I’m no’ a thief yet and I maun put it back. Awa’ wi’ ye like a hare."