“See here, Miss Lavinia,” he spoke, “I don’t fancy treating Andy like a criminal.  If I take him with me now I’ll have to lock him up with two chicken thieves and a tramp.  They’re no good company for a homebred boy.”

“He deserves a lesson,” declared Miss Lavinia.  “He shall have it, too!”

“Let him stay here till morning, then I’ll come after him.”

“He won’t be here.  Didn’t you hear him say he was going to run away from home?”

“Haven’t you got some safe place I can lock him up in?” suggested Wagner.  “I’ve got to make you safe and sound, you know,” observed the officer quite apologetically to Andy.

“Yes, there is,” reported Miss Lavinia after brief thought.  “You wait a minute.”

She went away and returned with a bunch of keys.  The constable beckoned to Andy to follow her, and he closed in behind.

A steep, narrow staircase led to an attic room at the extreme rear of the house.  This, as Andy knew, was his aunt’s strong room.

It had a heavy door secured by a padlock, and only one window.  As Miss Lavinia unlocked the door and the candle illuminated the interior of the apartment, the constable observed grimly: 

“I reckon this will keep him safe and sound.”

Andy said nothing.  He had made up his mind what he would do, and considered further talk useless.

The apartment was littered up with chests, barrels and old furniture.  In one corner was a pile of carpets.  Andy walked silently over to these, threw himself down, and found himself in darkness as the door was again stoutly padlocked on the outside.

“If anybody cared for me here it might be different,” he observed.  “As they don’t, I must make friends for myself.”

In about half an hour Andy went to the window, It was a small one-pane sash.  Looking out, he could trace the reflection from a light in his aunt’s room on the shrubbery.

Finally this light was extinguished.  Andy waited a full hour.  He heard the town bell strike twelve.

The lad took out his pocket knife, opened its big blade, and in a few minutes had pried off the strip lining the sash.  He removed the pane and set it noiselessly on the floor.

As he stuck his head out through the aperture Andy looked calculating and serious.

It was fully thirty feet to the ground, and no friendly projection offered help in a descent.

It was furthermore a question if he could even squeeze through the window space.

Andy had nothing to make a rope of.  The old pieces of carpet could not be utilized in any way.  If he could force his body through the window head first, it was a dive to go feet first on a dangerous drop.

Andy investigated the aperture, experimented, took in the situation in all its various phases.  Finally he decided what he would do.

He had unearthed a long ironing board from a corner of the room.  He pulled a heavy dresser up to the window, and opened one of its drawers a few inches.