She was about to commence again the feverish unscrewing of the door
hinges, when she heard Rudolph's step on the stairs. She had only time
to get to the back of her room, beside the bed, when she heard him try
the knob.

"Anna?"

She let him call her again.

"Anna!"

"What is it?"

"You in bed?"

"Yes. Go away and let me alone. I've got a right to sleep, anyhow."

"I'm going out, but I'll be back in ten minutes. You try any tricks and
I'll get you. See?"

"You make me sick," she retorted.

She heard him turn and run lightly down the stairs. Only when she heard
the click of the gate did she dare to begin again at the door. She got
down-stairs easily, but she was still a prisoner. However, she found the
high little window into the coal-shed open, and crawled through it, to
stand listening. The street was quiet.

Once outside the yard she started to run. They would let her telephone
from the drug-store, even without money. She had no money. But the
drug-store was closed and dark, and the threat of Rudolph's return
terrified her. She must get off the hill, somehow.

There were still paths down the steep hill-side, dangerous things that
hugged the edge of small, rocky precipices, or sloped steeply to sudden
turns. But she had played over the hill all her young life. She plunged
down, slipping and falling a dozen times, and muttering, some times an
oath, some times a prayer, "Oh, God, let me be in time. Oh, God, hold him up a while until I--"
then a slip. "If I fall now--"