For a time I lay and listened, as little pieces of plaster rolled down
the stairs and the rats scuttled restlessly about. Then, half-dazed, I
felt for the matches, which, happily, were safe in my pocket.
By the dim light given by one of these it was easy to see my horrible
position, perched on the edge of the landing, some part of my long
ulster actually hanging over the side.
Below, all was dark.
A dense cloud seemed rising between my eyes and the match slowly burning
itself out.
The choking sensation told me that it was a cloud of dust raised by the
fall of so much plaster.
After waiting for a short time, scarcely daring to breathe, I struck
another match, and again looked around.
The cloud had disappeared, but my clothes were whitened, indicating
where its particles had settled.
Then the match burnt my fingers, and as it dropped down into the Stygian
darkness I could descry its course till it became merely a faint red
speck in that great depth.
Lighting yet another match, and making a great effort to pull myself
together, I slowly and carefully rose and crept away from that dangerous
spot.
Why need I go into further detail? Let it suffice for me to state that,
with care and eagerness, I searched every room I could find, till my
patience and my matches were exhausted--yet without avail.
Evidently I had entered the wrong house!
On the bottom flight I had to encounter and pass over the _debris_ which
had fallen from above. The task was a difficult and perilous one, but
eventually reaching the bottom, I stood on firm ground.
My journey had been for naught; my clothes were covered with a white
powder which all my resources failed to remove; and the task of
regaining the street unobserved and unsuspected remained to be
accomplished.
I listened attentively. There was not a sound to be heard. All was
silent and gloomy, save where the light from a street-lamp shone through
a distant window in another room, making the outline of the door dimly
visible.
Cautiously and carefully I essayed to reach the pavement by the window
which had afforded me an entrance.
Suddenly I was startled by my wrists being seized from the outside, the
hoarding removed in a trice, and ere an exclamation could escape me, I
found myself in the grasp of a couple of stalwart constables.
"What are you doing here--eh?" one asked, roughly, turning the
insufferable glare of his lantern into my eyes.
I tried to answer, but a dimness seemed to come over me, and the only
recollection that remains of what followed was of darting across a road
accompanied by my two captors, one of whom held me on each side.
"`Being on unoccupied premises, supposed for an unlawful purpose--' eh?"
suggested the man on my right.
"That's it," replied the other, who had first spoken to me.
Then I was dragged into a police-station.