Upon arrival at the station, one of the officers, Simms, hurried forward to ascertain the cause of the trouble, for evidently something serious had happened. The two prisoners were thus left, handcuffed, it is true, but under guard of only one officer, whose attention was also attracted by the excitement ahead. The officer gave his prisoners little attention, for he believed they were perfectly secure, as Jack’s right wrist was handcuffed to the officer and Rutley was linked to Jack.
Rutley soon found that he could “slip the bracelet” and, nudging Jack, displayed his free hand. Jack gave him a significant wink, at the same time gently nodded his head for him to “break.” For an instant Rutley was tempted to strike down the unsuspecting officer, and attempt to release Jack, but the chance of detection in the act, and inviting instant pursuit was so great, that he decided to try to escape alone. Silently he stepped apart; farther, then he slipped behind the station.
A swift, noiseless dash to a culvert, through it and up along a small ravine, soon put him out of sight of the officers. His last view of them convinced him that they were still unmindful of his escape.
Arriving at a considerable elevation, to where a clump of brush concealed him from the view of those below, he paused and took a hasty glance around. The sweep of the slope was too clear and unobstructed for any possibility of escape to the woods that covered the hill a couple of hundred yards distant, without him being seen. His determination was daring and instant.
He would enter “Rosemont house,” seek a hiding place, secure some sort of disguise, and in the night effect his escape.
Following the depression he soon appeared on a level with the house. Taking advantage of such cover as was afforded by shrubbery and hedges, and cowering close to earth, he quickly traversed the space that had separated him from the house. Throwing himself prostrate among some ivy that grew in thick profusion along the basement of the south side as a protection from the Winter rain, he lay there effectually concealed and listened with tense nerves for sounds of pursuit.
The silence was unbroken save for the spasmodic whirr of a lawn mower on a distant part of the grounds. Having recovered his wind, he looked up. Above him was an open window, but screened. If he could enter by that window he might gain the loft without discovery, and once there he felt satisfied that a good hiding place could be found. The front entrance would be easier, but the risk of being seen crossing the piazza was too great. He decided to try the window. Arising from his concealment, and refreshed by his short rest, enthusiasm bounded through his veins.
“I will get away yet,” he muttered between his clenched teeth. “I saw the women following Harris down to the shore and the house must be deserted by all save the servants, and they are likely in the kitchen.”
Another swift glance at the window, and mentally estimating its height from the ground, he felt certain that an entrance through it was practicable. There was no time to be lost.
The “water table” afforded a footing, and by the aid of an iron trellis erected to support a climbing vine, he reached the window. There an obstacle was encountered. He tried to raise the screen, but it would not budge. In his exasperation he nearly tore his finger nails off trying to raise it from the bottom. Realizing that he was becoming excited he at once forced a calmness which he deemed highly essential, if he was to succeed. Every moment, too, was fraught with danger of discovery.