Unfortunately for him, the stairs led up instead of
down. Slowly, silently, he climbed them; but not before he
thought he heard a low exclamation from below. For some
unforeseen reason the nurse and doctor had looked in the Wolf's
room to see how he was getting on. The room of course was empty,
and the Wolf knew a search would begin at once. How he cursed
his fate that he was dressed only in his underwear and bathrobe!
It would take a clever man indeed to escape in such garments.
And escape he must. The Weasel was dead. He had killed him, and
no one knew better than the Wolf that he would be made to pay the
whole penalty. Adolph was dead, the Weasel was dead, Ledermann
had jumped into the river to escape his pursuers and had drowned.
And here was he, the Wolf, trapped-at bay. He slipped into the
first door at hand. It was a large hall used for a gymnasium for
the nurses. There were steps at the door. He looked about.
There was not a place to hide. Hurrying to the window as fast as
his feeble strength would permit, he raised the sash and looked
out. There, outside the window, was a fire-escape. Without an
instant's hesitation, he stepped out and placed his slippered
foot on the narrow tread of the iron ladder.
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