He let the line out of the window, and his delicate sense told him when it struck against the ground.  Six or eight feet were left in his hand, and he tied the end firmly to the bar, knotting it again and again.  Then he slipped through the opening and the passage was so close that his ears scraped as they went by.  He hung for a few moments on the outside, his feet on the stone sill and his hands clasping the iron bar.  He felt sheer and absolute terror.  The spires of the cathedral were invisible and only a few far lights showed dimly.  It seemed to him that he was suspended over a bottomless pit, and he shivered from head to foot.

But he recalled his courage.  Such a black night was best suited to his task.  The shivering ceased.  Hope ruled once more.  He knelt on the stone sill, and, grasping his crude rope with both hands, let himself down from the window.  It required almost superhuman exertion to keep himself from dropping sheer away, and the rope burned his palms.  But he held on, knowing that he must hold, and the stone wall felt cold to him, as he lay against it, and slid slowly down.

Perhaps his strength, which was more of the mind than of the body, partly gave way under such a severe strain, but he felt pains shooting through his arms, shoulders and chest.  His most vivid recollections of the descent were the coldness of the wall against which he lay and the far tinkle of a mandolin which came to him with annoying distinctness.  The frequent knots where he had tied the strips together were a help, and whenever he came to one he let his hands rest upon it a moment or two lest he slide down too rapidly.

He had been descending, it seemed to him, fully an hour, and he must have come down a mile, when he heard the rattle of a saber.  It was so distinct and so near that it could not be imagination.  He looked in the direction of the sound and saw two dark figures in the street.  As he stared the two figures shaped themselves into two Mexican officers.  Truth, not fancy, told him also that they were not moving.  They had seen him escaping and they would come for him!  He pressed his body hard against the stone wall, and with his hands resting upon one of the knots clung desperately to the rope.  He was hanging in an alley, and the men were on the street at the mouth of it six or seven yards away.  They were talking and it must be about him!

He saw them create a light in some manner, and his hands almost slipped from the rope.  Then joy flooded back.  They were merely lighting cigarettes, and, with a few more words to each other, they walked on.  Ned slid slowly down, but when he came to the last knot his strength gave way and he fell.  It seemed to him that he was plunging an immeasurable distance through depths of space.  Then he struck and with the force of the blow consciousness left him.