his being there he had
never been allowed an opportunity to approach the window and look out.

Leaning forward into the recess, he thrust his head between the bar and
jamb, so far out as to give him a view of the ground below. This was
solid rock, the crest of a steep slope, from which the wall rose as
above a buttress. But there was a ledge, some ten or twelve feet under
the sill, narrow, but wide enough to afford footing, which led off to
more level ground. How was he to reach it?

He knew, or he would not have acted as he now did. For without spending
another second in the survey, he drew back from the window, plunged his
hand under his bed mat, drew forth the file, and commenced rasping away
at the bar. Not noisily or in any excited haste. Even if the obstacle
were removed, the time had not come for his attempt to pass out. He
would wait for an hour after midnight, when all had gone to their beds.

Eaten with rust, the iron was easily sawed through, a clean cut being
made near its lower end. Then, laying aside the file, and grasping the
bar, he wrenched it out of the solderings. If diminutive in body, his
arms were sinewy and strong as those of a coal-heaver.

This task accomplished, he turned to his pallet and taking up the old
blanket allowed him for a covering, began to tear it into strips. He
meant to make a rope of it to lower himself down outside. But finding
it quite rotten, and doubting whether it would bear his weight, he
desisted and sat for a time considering. Not long till he bethought
himself of something more suitable for his purpose--the chain.

"Bah!" he exclaimed, tossing aside the rags he had commenced splicing
together, "why didn't I think of that? Well, it's not too late yet.
Good three yards--long enough. And the stupid has left the key behind,
which fits both ends. So, Mr Chain, considering the world of worry and
trouble you've been to me, it's time, and only fair, you should do me a
good turn by way of recompense. After you've done it, I'll forgive
you."

While muttering this quaint apostrophe, he commenced groping about over
the floor--not for the chain, but the key, which he knew Gregorio had
left, after releasing his leg from the clasp. The mayor-domo had either
forgotten, or did not think it was worth while taking it away.

Having found it, he felt his way to the ring bolt, and unlocking the
clasp at that end, returned to the window, taking the chain with him.
Havi