Back to the cabinet de toilette I went to find a suitable object to which to fasten my rope.  There was nothing in the little room save the washstand, and that was fragile and quite unsuited for the purpose.  I noticed that the window was fitted with shutters on the outside fastened back against the wall.  They had not been touched for years, I should say, for the iron peg holding them back was heavy with rust and the shutters were covered with dust.  I closed the left-hand shutter and found that it fastened solidly to the window-frame by means of massive iron bolts, top and bottom.

Here was the required support for my rope.  The poker thrust though the wooden slips of the shutter held the rope quite solidly.  I attached my rope to the poker with an expert knot that I had picked up at a course in tying knots during a preposterously dull week I had spent at the base in France.  Then I dragged from the bed the gigantic eiderdown pincushion and the two massive pillows, stripping off the pillow-slips lest their whiteness might attract attention whilst they were fulfilling the unusual mission for which I destined them.

At the window of the cabinet de toilette I listened a moment.  All was silent as the grave.  Resolutely I pitched out the eiderdown into the dark and dirty air shaft.  It sailed gracefully earthwards and settled with a gentle plop on the stones of the tiny yard.  The pillows followed.  The heavier thud they would have made was deadened by the billowy mass of the edredon.  Semlin’s bag went next, and made no sound to speak of; then his overcoat and hat followed suit.

I noticed, with a grateful heart, that the eiderdown and pillows covered practically the whole of the flags of the yard.

I went back once more to the room and blew out the candle.  Then, taking a short hold on my silken rope, I clambered out over the window ledge and started to let myself down, hand over hand, into the depths.

My two bell-ropes, knotted together, were about twenty feet long, so I had to reckon on a clear drop of something over thirty feet.  The poker and shutter held splendidly firm, and I found little difficulty in lowering myself, though I barked my knuckles most unpleasantly on the rough stucco of the wall.  As I reached the extremity of my rope I glanced downward.  The red splash of the eiderdown, just visible in the light from the adjoining window, seemed to be a horrible distance below me.  My spirit failed me.  My determination began to ebb.  I could never risk it.

The rope settled the question for me.  It snapped without warning—­how it had supported my weight up to then I don’t know—­and I fell in a heap (and, as it seemed to me at the time, with a most reverberating crash) on to the soft divan I had prepared for my reception.

I came down hard, very hard, but old Madame’s plump eiderdown and pillows certainly helped to break my fall.  I dropped square on top of the eiderdown with one knee on a pillow and, though shaken and jarred, I found I had broken no bones.