West emptied the man's pockets, slipping two revolvers into his own; then stood for an instant motionless, staring down into the white upturned face. He had followed the impulse of the moment; had struck savagely; knowing it was his only chance. Thus far he had done well; but what next? He was conscious of but one thought, one purpose--to escape from this house, unpledged and still free to act. Yet how could this be accomplished? He had no plan, no knowledge even of his surroundings, of what lay beyond the walls of this room. His eyes swept the bare interior, seeing nothing to inspire hope. Hobart had said this room was practically a prison, and it looked it--the walls bare, and unbroken, and a rough single cot. All possibility of egress lay in the closed door, and a narrow window high up in the opposite wall, also tightly shut, and shaded by a heavy curtain.
His hand tried the door cautiously; the knob turned easily enough, but there was no yielding to his pressure. The lock was evidently on the outside, and he could discover no key-hole, no possibility of operating it from within. Then, besides in all probability, a guard would be posted outside in the hall, waiting for some signal from Hobart. West glanced again at the recumbent figure, bending over to make sure of his condition, then, gripping a chair, silently crossed the room.
There was not a minute to lose. He knew that he must choose quickly whatever course he pursued. Any instant Hobart might recover consciousness, and gain assistance by a rap on the door; indeed his confederates without might not wait for the signal. The silence within, the length of time, might arouse suspicion. The only chance lay in immediate action. Standing on the chair West found the window had been securely nailed into place, but this had been done so long ago, it was quite possible for him to work the nails loose, yet it required all his strength to press up the warped sash sufficiently far to enable him to gain a view outside. It was not encouraging. Evidently he was upon the third floor, at the rear of the building, looking down into a cluttered up back yard. His eyes could scarcely distinguish what was below, as the only glimmer of light came from a far distant street lamp at the end of an alley, the faint rays creeping in through holes in the fence. Yet one black shadow seemed to promise the sloping roof of a shed directly below; but even with that to break his fall, it was a desperate leap.