"None, Señor, but the boards of the floor."
"No time to tear those up."
He glanced round the room. He saw that the heavy curtains were enclosed at the top within an ornamental wooden framework, square-cut, massive, and ugly.
"Steps? A ladder?" he said.
"In the press at the head of the stairs, Señor."
"Quick! bring them here; and a hammer."
In a few moments Jack was standing on a short ladder, hammering the planks of the framework apart. Extending over both windows and the wall between, they were about sixteen feet in length. A few hard blows wrenched the fastenings, and two planks an inch thick lay on the floor. Side by side they measured three feet across.
"Now, ropes, cords!" cried Jack.
A long, stout bell-pull hanging from the ceiling caught his eye. Tearing it down, by the time Francisco returned with a length of rope Jack had lashed the planks together at one end. Soon the other ends were bound as firmly together.
"Help me upstairs with it."