“There’s wan way,” said the caretaker’s wife, stung to profitable thought by the other’s distress. “And that’s the way the tenants would go in case av fire. To be sure now I might send the lift boy.”
“It would frighten him to death. He must not see strangers. What is the way?”
“If we wint into the cellar an’ out into the area, we’ll find the ground ends av the fire-eshcapes that take to all the rooms. Go aisy, dear.”
Sister Ursula had gone down the basement steps through the cellar into the area, and with clenched teeth was looking up the monstrous sheer of red-brick wall cut into long strips by the lessening perspective of perpendicular iron ladders. Under each window each ladder opened out into a little, a very little, balcony. The rest was straighter than a ship’s mast.
The caretaker’s wife followed, panting; came out into the sunshine, and, shading her eyes, took stock of the ground.
“He’ll be No. 42 on the Fifth. Thin this ladder goes up to it. Bad luck to thim, they’ve the eshcapes front an’ back, spoilin’ the look av a fine house: but it’s all paid for in the rint. Glory be to God, the avenue’s empty—all but. But it should ha’ been the back—it should ha’ been the back!”
Two children were playing in the gutter. But for these the avenue was deserted, and the hush of a Sabbath afternoon hung over it all. Sister Ursula put the medicine-bottle carefully into the pocket of her gown. Her face was as white as her coif.
“’Tis not for me,” said the caretaker’s wife, shaking her head sadly. “I’m so’s to be round, or I’d go wid ye. Those ladders do be runnin’ powerful straight up an’ down. ’Tis scandalous to think—but in a fire, an’ runnin’ wid their night clothes, they’d not stop to think. Go away, ye two little imps, there! The bottle’s in your pocket? You’ll not lose good hold av the irons. What is ut?—oh!”
Sister Ursula retreated into the cellar, dropped on her knees, and was praying—praying as Lady Godiva prayed before she mounted her palfrey. The caretaker’s wife had barely time to cross herself, and follow her example, when she was on her feet again, and her feet were on the lowest rungs of the ladder.
“Hould tight,” said the caretaker’s wife. “Oh, darlint, wait till Mike comes! Come down, now!—the good angels be wid you. There should have been a way at the back. Walk tinderly an’ hould tight. Heaven above sind there’ll be no wind! Oh, why wasn’t his ugly rooms at the back, where ’tis only yards an’ bedroom windows!”