# The Red Mist/Chapter 19

CHAPTER XIX
THE ONE PATH OF ESCAPE
THERE was absolutely nothing for me to do but wait, but it was hard to judge time. My watch had been taken from me, and I was fearful lest I choose a wrong hour for my exploit. The noise of the camp without was some guide, however, but, as the evening lengthened, a band began playing overhead, and I could hear the sound of feet on the floor above. Evidently a dance was in progress in the big court room, and for the moment my heart seemed to stop beating in a sudden fear that my plan of escape for that night was blocked. It was the big fireplace opening into this room through which I had hoped to emerge, but I could never accomplish such hope amidst of those dancers. And they might keep up their dancing to so late an hour as to give me no opportunity before dawn to find a place in which to elude search. Yet the noise was in my favor, if I could only be assured the chimney was wide enough above to permit of my finally reaching the roof. Once there I would discover a way down. The band was a good one, and the musicians played with energy; I could even ​distinguish the tapping of the leader's foot on the floor almost directly above my head. The noise made by the dancers was muffled and confused, and, while I knew there were voices talking, and could occasionally catch the sound of a laugh, the whole was merely a din, entirely meaningless. The grim incongruity of that merry party above, dancing and laughing in the bright light, and of myself in that black cell below, waiting the certainty of death the next morning, served to steel my resolve—the affair was like an insult, and I felt my blood grow hot in my veins as the strains of a waltz and schottish mingled with the uproar of nimble feet. I would take the chance, and it might as well be now.
I could hear nothing of the guard in the corridor, although I listened intently, my ear against the iron door, during a lull in that babel overhead. It was hardly likely another inspection would be made, at least not until the sentries were again relieved, probably at midnight. To my judgment this would allow me nearly three hours in which to make my effort—and surely half that time should prove sufficient. The band burst into harmony again—a polka, I remember—and I tore free the loosened support. It made an ugly bit of iron, well adapted for the purpose I had in mind. Not only could it be utilized as a lever, but it was no mean weapon for use in emergency.
​I found the iron sheathing difficult to penetrate, and it must have required fifteen or twenty minutes to break the edge loose so as to insert the point of my wedge. The effort tore my hands terribly, but desperation gave me a strength which finally pressed back the thin sheet of iron. The bar, once inserted, furnished the necessary leverage, forcing the iron to yield about the rivet heads. The operation required time, and was by no means noiseless, but the blaring of the band drowned the rasping sound, and enabled me to exercise all my strength. This opening gave me both hand and foot-hold, together with a new faith in my ultimate success. I waited between the dances, recruiting strained muscles, and, listening anxiously for any alarming sound in the corridor; only to spring again feverishly to the work the moment the band resumed playing.
Again and again I thought my effort would fail, yet the barrier yielded inch by inch, bursting from the grip of the rivets as I succeeded in achieving leverage, until I forced fully half the iron curtain backward, jamming it against the wall, and thus revealed the black opening into the chimney. It was there just as I had remembered, and the proof brought me fresh hope, and renewed determination. There was danger ahead, yet the most difficult part of my desperate undertaking had been accomplished.
​I knelt down and stared breathlessly into the yawning cavity, and thrust my head into the opening seeking for some gleam of light above. There was none, nor was there any smell of smoke. This discovery relieved one anxiety, while it brought a new problem. Had the oldtime fireplaces been permanently closed, so as to compel me to climb to the very roof in order to obtain an exit? The opening which I had uncovered was sufficiently large to permit the squeezing through of my body, and, once within the chimney, I found ample space in which to explore.
I could see nothing, and was compelled to rely entirely upon the sense of touch. This, however, quickly convinced me that the opposite wall was solid, containing not even a flue hole. Then assuredly no furnace had ever been installed in the building, and either open fireplaces, or stoves, were used for heating purposes in those rooms above. Probably the former had been discarded and the latter substituted since the days of my boyhood, which would account for the darkness above. The oldtime openings had been closed, sealed up, and so the chances were that only the roof afforded opportunity for my escape. I felt grave doubt as to my ability to attain that elevation; it was not a pleasant prospect, but I had already gone too far to hesitate. This was my ​only chance, and I must either give it a trial, or resign myself to the certain fate of the morrow.
Iron bars had been left on one side the chimney, forming an irregular ladder, whether for strengthening or some other purpose, I cannot say. My groping hands located these, and by their aid I began to climb slowly upward through the pitch darkness. The chimney walls were at the beginning so wide apart as to afford me no grip, but by the time the iron bands disappeared, which was just below the floor of the first story, the chimney had narrowed sufficiently to enable me to brace myself between its jagged sides. In this manner I not only managed to keep from falling, but even succeeded in advancing slowly, although the sharp edges of the stone lacerated hands and knees painfully. At the level of the first story I came upon a projection of rock, possibly six or eight inches wide, on which I found secure foot-hold, and was thus able to regain breath and strength for a renewal of the struggle. I was crouched opposite the oldtime fireplace, and the band, playing noisily, was within a very few feet of where I hid. However, not a gleam of light was visible, and it was some time before I located the opening which had been left for a stovepipe. Even then I could feel no pipe, but, as I extended my arm, a finger burst through the paper which had been pasted across the entrance, and ​a glow of radiance illumined the black walls about me.
I waited motionless, holding my breath in fear that some eye might have witnessed the tearing of the paper; but there was no cessation of noise, no evidence of discovery. The band ceased to play, and the murmur of voices in conversation reached me where I clung precariously to the ragged wall. It was a mere monotone, the mingled words indistinguishable, confused by feet moving across the floor. Then some voice announced the next dance, and the band began again.
Assailed by a temptation to view the scene, I found foothold a little higher up, and, clinging to the edge of the hole, brought my eyes to a level with the rent in the paper. The vista was not a wide one, and I dare not enlarge the space, yet I saw sufficient to yield me full knowledge of the party, and its occasion. The floor was crowded, the men almost without exception in Federal uniform. A few of these were dancing together, as thought there was a scarcity of women partners, but the fairer sex were not altogether lacking, and I had little difficulty in distinguishing the officers' wives from the town belles by the cut and material of their gowns. The latter, however, predominated, proving either that the feminine inhabitants of Lewisburg were loyal in their ​sentiments, or that the Yankee invaders had made a complete capture of the town. Whichever theory was the true one, both sexes were enjoying themselves to the top of their bent, forgetful of everything except the pleasure of the moment.
The couples whirled past, circling the room. I could distinguish uniforms of every grade below that of colonel, and representatives of the three arms of the service. Occasionally a black coat appeared conspicuously amid the throng on the floor, but there were more of these visible along the side walls. It was evidently military night, and the ladies looked kindly on brass buttons and gold lace. The big room resounded to the tap of feet, and the ceaseless murmur of voices; laughter rang out, and over all the merry strain of music.
I watched the faces eagerly, but they were all strange. No doubt some of those young women I had known as girls, but they had grown out of my recollection. None among the officers present, so far as I could tell, had I ever come in contact with—ah! yes! there was Whitlock sitting disconsolately alone below the judge's bench. I clung to my perch determining to assure myself, but my eyes encountered no other familiar countenance. Of course Noreen would not attend, but there must be some special cause to account for Raymond's absence. He was the sort ​to whom such an occasion as this would naturally appeal.
Satisfied by my scrutiny, I explored the opposite wall in vain for any similar opening. As I remembered there were offices there, where in days of peace the county officers held sway, and the floor above was an unfurnished attic, extending the full length of the building, having a low, unceiled roof. In the old days it had been used for storage purposes, and there was a narrow stairway leading down into the sheriff's office. Ay! and there was a contrivance there once in which they used to burn waste papers. I remembered a certain house-cleaning in which I assisted, and was assigned to the job of stirring the papers frequently with an iron poker. I thought it fun, and the chimney funnel was a big one. Possibly it was there still, but could I succeed in getting up that far? The light shining through the broken paper permitted a faint glimpse of my immediate surroundings, yet revealed little to encourage such an attempt. The chimney was barely large enough to admit the upward passage of my body, and was a black mystery. However, the irregularity of the stones promised finger and foot-hold, and if the opening retained the same formation to the top, I might be able to squeeze through without serious accident. At any rate the effort must be made—to retreat, or even to ​remain where I was, involved consequences far more dangerous than those threatened by this tunnel. It offered a chance, a hope—and I could ask no more.
These were but flashes of thought, for I was climbing before the music ceased, clinging desperately to every slight projection, and bracing myself against the walls. Progress was slow, and occasionally painful; the contracted space gave me a feeling of suffocation, and I dislodged enough soot so I was compelled to struggle constantly to restrain from coughing. My only relief was to bind a handkerchief across mouth and nostrils.
While the music remained silent, I rested, fearful lest my struggles would be overheard, taking such meager comfort as I could. The first blare of the horns started me off once more, careless in the midst of so much noise as to whether I rattled the loosened plaster, or even dislodged an ill-secured stone. But at the best the passage was made by inches, and I took more than one desperate chance of slipping; twice I clung breathless as the music ceased, but the second time I felt convinced I had attained to the level of the upper floor. This was but a decision of judgment, as my only guidance came from the noise below, and the distance which it seemed to me I had clambered up. There was no change in my surroundings as revealed by my groping hands—the same ​solid four walls of rubble stone and plaster, but these thus far ran straight up, wide enough apart to permit the passage of my body.
With the next burst of melody from below, now somewhat mellowed by distance and the intervening walls, I made another attempt to ascend, but had scarcely attained more than a foot or two when my right hand plunged into a wide opening. Clinging as best I could to a precarious footing, I ran my arm deeper in until I came in contact with a tin covering, which yielded easily to the pressure of my fingers, and finally fell rather noisily to the floor. I paused, startled at the sound, but no gleam of light came through the opening, and I instantly realized that the attic was unoccupied. The rattle of the tin would, in all probability, create no alarm because of the din below.
I knew now exactly where I was, the only immediate problem being my ability to squeeze through that narrow space. The oldtime burner had evidently been removed, and a tin cap fitted over the chimney hole. I wiggled my way in head first, shoulders drawn together, hands gripping the outer edge, and feet pressed strong against the inside of the chimney. At first it seemed as if I hardly moved, and I was wedged so closely that every attempt to breathe gave me pain; yet to crush my way forward was easier ​than an attempt to retreat, and I pushed with all my power, feeling my clothes tear, yet conscious of some slight advance. The encouragement of this success led to a redoubling of effort, my shoulders drawn close, and every muscle strained to its utmost. My knees were doubled up in the chimney, and my feet found solid purchase against the stones. I felt as though the very skin was being peeled off me, but I shot forward, my head and shoulders emerging into the open. Heavens! what a relief! I drew a long breath, dangling over the floor, unable to reach any support; then kicked and struggled until I fell out headlong, and lay too exhausted even to move.
It was so still I could plainly hear the swift beating of my heart, and so dark that not an object was discernible. The music below had ceased, and, as I was now on the opposite side of the building, the sound of conversation and movement did not reach me. For a long moment I lay there endeavoring to recall the surroundings, but I dare not waste much time in such idleness. The night was slipping away, and every instant gained was to my advantage. There was no safety until I was out of this building. I ached from head to foot, my clothes must be in rags, and, no doubt, I was as black as a negro from chimney soot. Yet my heart beat high with hope, and the spirit of adventure gripped me.
​The stairs were somewhere to the right, unprotected by even a handrail. I crept toward them across the rough board floor, fearing a fall, and finally located the opening. Nothing indicated that the room below was occupied, and I slipped down as silently as possible, although the steps creaked under my weight. Once in the sheriff's room, some recollection of its form and furnishing recurred to mind; my memory, served by the dim reflection of a camp-fire without, which rendered objects faintly visible. I could distinguish the desk, and a few rounded-back wooden chairs pushed against the wall. There was a door to the left, standing ajar, leading into a wash-room, and I ventured within, feeling about to assure myself if there had been any water left. I found a bucket nearly full, and two bars of soap, and unable to resist the luxury, I stripped off my ragged uniform coat, and began vigorous scrubbing. How thorough a job I made of it I cannot tell, but the soap lathered freely, and I certainly did my best, using up an entire roller towel in the final effort to attain cleanliness.
There was a coat and hat hanging on the hooks, neither article of the highest respectability I judged from feeling them, but more to my purpose than the rags I had cast aside, and I donned the two gladly, finding them no bad fit. The hat was looped up with a star. Feeling quite myself again in these new ​habiliments; and conscious of a clean face, I stole across the sheriff's deserted office, seeking the door into the corridor. I found it, but it was locked. Failing to force this I tried the windows, only to discover them securely barred. All these offices were connected together, that of the county clerk adjoining the sheriff's, and possibly I might find a door unlocked somewhere; at least none of the other windows would be ironed.
I listened at the door leading into the clerk's room, but heard no sound. There was no lock on the door, and it opened silently to the pressure of my hand. A flood of light swept into my eyes, and I stood blinking blindly, too surprised and startled to draw instantly back. There were two men in the room, one bending over a desk, the other sitting leaning back against the wall directly facing me. The latter was Lieutenant Raymond.