Part 4 (2/2)

”It'll hold I guess.”

Up she went like a monkey climbing the side of a cage. At the top of this grating there came an agonizing second in which she felt herself in danger of toppling over before she gained her balance on the window ledge above. Her splendid training served her well. She threw herself across the stone casing and, for a few seconds, lay there listening.

Hardly had she dropped noiselessly to the floor, some three feet below, than she heard the thud-thud of hurrying footsteps on the hard-packed snow. Holding her breath, she crouched there motionless, hoping beyond hope that she might hear those footsteps pa.s.s on around the building.

In this hope she was disappointed. Like a hound who has lost his scent, the man doubled back, then paused beneath her window.

The girl's heart raced on. Was she trapped? The man, she felt sure, would, somehow, gain access to the building. Nevertheless, she might escape him.

The building had once been a museum, the central building of a great world exposition. No longer used as a museum, it stood there, an immense, unused structure, slowly dropping into decay. The floor on which she had landed was really a broad balcony with a rusty railing at its edge. From where she crouched she could see down into the main floor where stretched, twining and inter-twining, mile upon mile of rooms and corridors.

Slipping out of her shoes, she b.u.t.toned them to her belt, then stole noiselessly along the balcony. Moving ever in the shadow of the wall, she came to a rusty iron stair. Here she paused.

Would the stair creak, give her away? The man might at this moment be in the building on the ground floor. Yet, on this narrow balcony, she was sure sooner or later to be trapped. She must risk it.

Placing one trembling foot on the top step, she allowed her weight to settle upon it. There followed no sound. Breathing more easily, she began the descent. Only once did her heart stand still; a bit of loose plaster, touched by her foot, bounded downward.

She dared not pause. The die was cast.

Once on the ground floor, she sprang across a patch of light and found herself in the shadows once more.

Moving with the greatest possible speed, yet with even greater caution, avoiding bits of plaster, rustling papers and other impediments in her course, she made her way along a wall which to her heightened imagination seemed to stretch on for a mile.

Once as she paused she thought she caught the sound of heavy breathing, followed by a dull thud. ”Must have come in through my window,” she decided, and, indeed there appeared to be no other means of access; all the ground floor doors and windows were either heavily shuttered or grated.

”These shutters and gratings,” she told herself, trying to still the fear in her heart by thinking of other things, ”are relics of other days. Here millions of dollars worth of relics, curios, and costly jewels were once displayed. Mounted animals and birds, aisle after aisle of them, rooms full of rich furs and costly silks, jewels too in abundance. They're all gone now, but the shutters are still here and I am trapped. There's only one exit and that guarded. Well, perhaps another somewhere. Anyway, I can wait. Daylight drives wolves to their dens. If only I can reach the other balcony!”

She had been in the building in the days of its glory, and had visited one of the curators, a friend of her mother. There were, on this other balcony, she remembered, a perfect labyrinth of rooms--cubbyholes and offices. Once she gained access to these she probably would be safe.

But here was another stair. She must go up.

Only partially enshrouded in darkness, it might betray her.

Dropping on hands and knees, she began to climb. A bit of gla.s.s cut her stocking. She did not notice that. A crumpled sheet of paper fluttered away; that was maddening. A broad patch of light from far above her head threw her out in bold relief for a second. For a second only. Then, leaping to her feet, she raced down the balcony and again entered the shadows.

Pressing a hand to her breast to still her heart's wild beating, she listened intently.

Did she hear? Yes, there could be no mistake, there came a soft pit-pat, the footsteps of a person walking on tiptoes.

”Like one of those mounted tigers come to life,” she thought with a shudder.

Slowly she moved along the wall. If only she could reach a door! If she only could!

But that door was a distance of some fifty yards away. Could she make it?

Stealthily she moved forward. Stopping now and then to listen, she caught as before the stealthy pit-pat of footsteps. Once some object rattled on the floor and she heard a m.u.f.fled exclamation. Then she caught a creaking sound--was he mounting the stair? Had the banister creaked?

Now she was twenty yards from the door, now ten, now five, and now--now she gripped its casing. Excitedly she swung around, only to find herself facing a rusted square of steel. The labyrinth of rooms was closed to her. She was trapped on a narrow balcony with no way to turn for escape.

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