Hammersley’s first act was to take off his shoes and slip one into each pocket of his jacket. They were soled with rubber, but even that he feared would make a sound. Then he put the box of matches in his pocket and blew out the candle, overturning it on the floor. The shutters of the window were closed, and if they were opened carefully the man in the garden below might not notice any change in the appearance of the window. Hammersley buttoned his jacket and, carefully pushing back the shutter, peered out. Fortunately the night had fallen darkly, and overhead black clouds were lowering, and while he hesitated, searching the paths below for the figure of the guard, there was a patter of rain upon the roof. The gods were propitious. At last he made out a dark bulk moving to and fro along the garden path toward the toolhouse. Hammersley watched, waiting until the man’s back was turned, when he opened the shutter wider and threw the rope of sheets out upon the ledge. Closing the shutter again, he came toward the house. So far so good, for the whiteness of the sheets would have been plainly visible had the guard been looking. The next stage of his escape was more difficult, and he let the fellow go and come twice along his path as he timed his new move. He tried the shutter carefully to see that it did not creak and measured with his eye the distance to the living-room chimney, which he must reach, during the twenty paces the soldier would take toward the toolhouse. A wind was blowing in the treetops and somewhere below him a young oak was rustling its last year’s leaves. The shutter fortunately opened in the direction in which he must go, so he sat upon the window-sill, doubled up, and when the time came, without looking again at the guard, moved quickly, slipping out noiselessly, closing the shutter behind him and, gathering up the sheet as he went, crept like a cat on a wall along the narrow ledge. It creaked with his weight, and some small object that his foot had touched grated along the roof and fell to the ground below. A tiny sound at best, but magnified in Hammersley’s ears a hundred times. He had reached the wide chimney and waited above it, listening for the footsteps of the man below. There was no sound. The man had stopped walking. Hammersley did not dare look out from his hiding-place, but he knew that in that moment his fate was hanging in a balance. Just then a heavier gust of wind than usual dislodged a broken branch from a tree nearby, which fell to the ground. Still the man below did not move and Hammersley blessed his wisdom in closing the shutter, for he knew that the guard must be peering upward, searching for a sign of anything unusual in its appearance.