"Except the roof and the front," she whispered back, "and they're locked. The head one keeps the keys. For God's sake, Jim, try to get out of this house before it's too late."
He pointed to one of the draped doorways. It was at the end of the hall, but the hall appeared to him too short.
"Is that the front door?"
She shook her head.
"Only leads to the front of the house. That's planted, of course—a boarding house. I tell you that door's locked."
"Then how can I get to a front window?"
"You can't, Jim."
He tried to plan.
"Then how am I—"
A heavy step seemed to set the thick, brown air in lazy motion. It came from a nearby room. It approached. Garth glanced at the purple hangings, expecting them to part on one who would discipline without mercy his presumption.