"You bet I'll make good," she resolved. "Just give me a chance and I'll
work my fool head off."

Which was by way of being a prayer.

It was the darkest hour before the dawn when she reached the cottage. It
was black and very still, and outside the gate she stooped and slipped
off her shoes. The window into the shed by which she had escaped was
still open, and she crouched outside, listening. When the stillness
remained unbroken she climbed in, tense for a movement or a blow.

Once inside, however, she drew a long breath. The doors were still
locked, and the keys gone. So Herman had not returned. But as she stood
there, hurried stealthy footsteps came along the street and turned in at
the gate. In a panic she flew up the stairs and into her room, where the
door still hung crazily on its hinges. She stood there, listening, her
heart pounding in her ears, and below she distinctly heard a key in the
kitchen door. She did the only thing she could think of. She lifted the
door into place, and stood against it, bracing it with her body.

Whoever it was was in the kitchen now, moving however more swiftly than
Herman. She heard matches striking. Then: "Hsst!"

She knew that it was Rudolph, and she braced herself mentally. Rudolph
was keener than Herman. If he found her door in that condition, and she
herself dressed! Working silently and still holding the door in place,
she flung off her coat. She even unpinned her hair and unfastened her
dress.