But how was this to be effected? There appeared to be but two entrances to the hayloft: the trapdoor which led to the room now occupied by the gangsters, and a large one very high up, through which in days of farming the hay had been drawn. Both of these were too dangerous. The way seemed blocked.
As her eyes became accustomed to the light, however, she saw a ladder leading to the very peak of the barn. It ran up one end, and was only a dozen paces from the spot where she stood.
The floor was strewn with chaff. Her light footsteps, as she moved toward the ladder, made no sound.
With one hand on the first round of the ladder, she paused to remove her shoes and tie them about her neck.
Nimble as a squirrel, she darted up the ladder to the very peak of the barn. A small opening there gave her a view of the overgrown pasture that lay dizzy depths below.
The moon was out. She could distinguish every detail of the scene beneath her. Beyond the narrow pasture was a field of wheat in the shocks. These shocks cast dark shadows.
“Like so many tombstones in a cemetery,” she told herself with a shudder.
She measured the distance to the ground, and then shook as with a chill.
“No use,” she told herself. “I’m trapped.”
Turning about, she tried to peer into the dark depths of the hayloft.