Both wore
masks. Instantly Buck was out of bed, dragging on his trousers. Then,
barefooted and shirtless, he slipped downstairs, slid the side door open
enough to squeeze through, and peered out. All he could see was the last
leg of a man disappearing through the window. They were both inside now.
Buck knew every room, hall and door in that house, for every spring
and fall he had helped the maids "clean house," taking up and laying
carpets. The knowledge stood him in good stead now. What window upstairs
would be open, he wondered. The bath-room, of course; it was small, but
he could wriggle through it, he told himself, or he would break every
bone in his body, at least, trying. All this time he was running and
crouching along the shadow of the high stone wall, that, bordered with
shrubs, made splendid "cover." He reached the kitchen, and, without
waiting to think whether it would bear him or not, seized hold of the
twisted vine trunks of the old Virginia creeper that partly covered the
house from ground to roof. Fortunately they held, and up he went like a
young squirrel, his bare toes clutching like claws in the tangle of the
stems and twigs.
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