That distant clock cleaved the silence of the night with twelve ponderous strokes.  Then the chimes played a pretty jingling little tune that rang out clearly in the still, rain-washed air.

I stood petrified and reflected on my next move.

Twelve o’clock!  I had eight hours’ grace before Stelze, the man of mystery and might, arrived to unmask me and hand me over to the tender mercies of Madame and of Karl.  Before eight o’clock arrived I must—­so I summed up my position—­be clear of the hotel and in the train for the German frontier—­if I could get a train—­else I must be out of Rotterdam, by that hour.

But I must act and act without delay.  There was no knowing when that dead man lying on the floor might procure me another visit from Madame and her myrmidons.  The sooner I was out of that house of death the better.

The door was solid; the lock was strong.  That I discovered without any trouble.  In any case, I reflected, the front-door of the hotel would be barred and bolted at this hour of the night, and I could scarcely dare hope to escape by the front without detection, even if Karl were not actually in the entrance hall.  There must be a back entrance to the hotel, I thought, for I had seen that the windows of my room opened on to the narrow street lining the canal which ran at the back of the house.

Escape by the windows was impossible.  The front of the house dropped sheer down and there was nothing to give one a foothold.  But I remembered the window in the cabinet de toilette giving on to the little air-shaft.  That seemed to offer a slender chance of escape.

For the second time that night I opened the casement and inhaled the fetid odours arising from the narrow court.  All the windows looking, like mine, upon the air-shaft were shrouded in darkness; only a light still burned in the window beneath the grating with the iron stair to the little yard.  What was at the foot of the stair I could not descry, but I thought I could recognize the outline of a door.

From the window of the cabinet de toilette to the yard the sides of the house, cased in stained and dirty stucco, fell sheer away.  Measured with the eye the drop from window to the pavement was about fifty feet.  With a rope and something to break one’s fall, it might, I fancied, be managed....

From that on, things moved swiftly.  First with my penknife I ripped the tailor’s tab with my name from the inside pocket of my coat and burnt it in the candle; nothing else I had on was marked, for I had had to buy a lot of new garments when I came out of hospital.  I took Semlin’s overcoat, hat and bag into the cabinet de toilette and stood them in readiness by the window.  As a precaution against surprise I pushed the massive mahogany bedstead right across the doorway and thus barricaded the entrance to the room.

From either side of the fireplace hung two bell-ropes, twisted silk cords of faded crimson with dusty tassels.  Mounting on the mantelpiece I cut the bell-ropes off short where they joined the wire.  Testing them I found them apparently solid—­at any rate they must serve.  I knotted them together.