But she forced herself to keep cool. She would want all her powers if she was to do any good.
She had heard the great clock from the old clock tower strike one quite a long time ago; yes, the School would have started. And there was not the tiniest bit of a window in her prison; it was all dark and close and filled with bottles that rattled and fell over if she moved, and boxes with sharp corners that cut her shins.
Mingled with the other stuffy smells there was the rank smell of newly fallen plaster. Though it was dry enough now there had been a good deal of rain last week, and Noreen had mentioned casually that the Professor had been very cross because some rain came through the closet roof and spoilt one of his "preparations."
Joey stood up cautiously, and, crouching on the floor, felt for the fallen plaster, groping before her with both hands. Of course she banged her head against a shelf, and upset a bottle, which smelt overpoweringly, but she found the plaster, and stood up again considering. Somewhere there must be a tile off; and if one had gone, she could surely pull away more, and attract attention from above.
Only how did one get up there? Shelves, of course! Joey cleared a space on the lowest shelf, as well as she could in the darkness, and scrambled on to it, clinging to the one above. There was a crash and the tinkle of broken glass, but she was reckless now. It didn't matter if she smashed all the bottles in the "Stinks Shop," as long as she got out before it was too late.
Hanging on with one hand, she pushed away some bottle from the next shelf, and pulled herself up on to it; and so, with much bruised shins, she landed at the top and stood upright, the roof in her reach at last.
She had expected to find a hole through which she could put her hand, but she actually only felt a cold whistle of wind, and had to pick at the lath and plaster for a good five minutes in the darkness before she could see any light through, and then only a chink.
She pushed with all her might, but nothing happened. There was a great shrieking and whistling above her head, and she realised that the wind must be rising; but nothing happened for all her efforts. She had thought that when one tile was off the others would follow naturally, but it seemed that only happened when you didn't want it to do so.
She must have something to push with—a shoe would do, only she must remember to put it on again before she stepped down upon the broken glass strewing the floor.
Joey unlaced one of her strong shoes, not without upsetting another bottle in the process, and, standing on tiptoe on the top shelf, began a violent assault upon the breach in the roof. If she could only make a hole large enough to get her head through, she thought, she would shout and shout and shout till somebody heard and came to let her out.