I was furiously angry--at myself, at the mantel door, at everything. I
did not fear suffocation; before the thought had come to me I had
already seen a gleam of light from the two small ventilating pipes in
the roof. They supplied air, but nothing else. The room itself was
shrouded in blackness.
I sat down in the stiff-backed chair and tried to remember how many
days one could live without food and water. When that grew monotonous
and rather painful, I got up and, according to the time-honored rule
for people shut in unknown and ink-black prisons, I felt my way
around--it was small enough, goodness knows. I felt nothing but a
splintery surface of boards, and in endeavoring to get back to the
chair, something struck me full in the face, and fell with the noise of
a thousand explosions to the ground. When I had gathered up my nerves
again, I found it had been the bulb of a swinging electric light, and
that had it not been for the accident, I might have starved to death in
an illuminated sepulcher.
I must have dozed off. I am sure I did not faint. I was never more
composed in my life. I remember planning, if I were not discovered,
who would have my things. I knew Liddy would want my heliotrope
poplin, and she's a fright in lavender. Once or twice I heard mice in
the partitions, and so I sat on the table, with my feet on the chair.
I imagined I could hear the search going on through the house, and once
some one came into the trunk-room; I could distinctly hear footsteps.
"In the chimney! In the chimney!" I called with all my might, and was
rewarded by a piercing shriek from Liddy and the slam of the trunk-room
door.
I felt easier after that, although the room was oppressively hot and
enervating. I had no doubt the search for me would now come in the
right direction, and after a little, I dropped into a doze. How long I
slept I do not know.
It must have been several hours, for I had been tired from a busy day,
and I wakened stiff from my awkward position. I could not remember
where I was for a few minutes, and my head felt heavy and congested.
Gradually I roused to my surroundings, and to the fact that in spite of
the ventilators, the air was bad and growing worse. I was breathing
long, gasping respirations, and my face was damp and clammy. I must
have been there a long time, and the searchers were probably hunting
outside the house, dredging the creek, or beating the woodland. I knew
that another hour or two would find me unconscious, and with my
inability to cry out would go my only chance of rescue. It was the
combination of bad air and heat, probably, for some inadequate
ventilation was coming through the pipes. I tried to retain my
consciousness by walking the length of the room and back, over and
over, but I had not the strength to keep it up, so I sat down on the
table again, my back against the wall.