There was no sign of an entrance--no levers, no hinges, to give a hint.

Either the mantel or the roof, I decided, and after a half-hour at the

mantel, productive of absolutely no result, I decided to try the roof.

I am not fond of a height. The few occasions on which I have climbed a

step-ladder have always left me dizzy and weak in the knees. The top

of the Washington monument is as impossible to me as the elevation of

the presidential chair. And yet--I climbed out on to the Sunnyside

roof without a second's hesitation. Like a dog on a scent, like my

bearskin progenitor, with his spear and his wild boar, to me now there

was the lust of the chase, the frenzy of pursuit, the dust of battle.

I got quite a little of the latter on me as I climbed from the

unfinished ball-room out through a window to the roof of the east wing

of the building, which was only two stories in height.

Once out there, access to the top of the main building was rendered

easy--at least it looked easy--by a small vertical iron ladder,

fastened to the wall outside of the ball-room, and perhaps twelve feet

high. The twelve feet looked short from below, but they were difficult

to climb. I gathered my silk gown around me, and succeeded finally in

making the top of the ladder.

Once there, however, I was completely out of breath. I sat down, my

feet on the top rung, and put my hair pins in more securely, while the

wind bellowed my dressing-gown out like a sail. I had torn a great

strip of the silk loose, and now I ruthlessly finished the destruction

of my gown by jerking it free and tying it around my head.

From far below the smallest sounds came up with peculiar distinctness.

I could hear the paper boy whistling down the drive, and I heard

something else. I heard the thud of a stone, and a spit, followed by a

long and startled meiou from Beulah. I forgot my fear of a height, and

advanced boldly almost to the edge of the roof.

It was half-past six by that time, and growing dusk.

"You boy, down there!" I called.

The paper boy turned and looked around. Then, seeing nobody, he raised

his eyes. It was a moment before he located me: when he did, he stood

for one moment as if paralyzed, then he gave a horrible yell, and

dropping his papers, bolted across the lawn to the road without

stopping to look around. Once he fell, and his impetus was so great

that he turned an involuntary somersault. He was up and off again

without any perceptible pause, and he leaped the hedge--which I am sure

under ordinary stress would have been a feat for a man.




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