Octavia's Pride; or, The Missing Witness — page 106: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

96 - OCTAVIA'S PRIDE crept around the house toward the great water spout. Fate was kind to her; the spout was held to its place by stout tin rings with flanges nailed to the house. She mounted upon the first without difficulty, and exploring upward with her hand, discovered there was another within her reach. Jane West gave her blessing to the artisan who had taken so much pains to secure the spout to the building, and vaguely wondered if it was not more a providential accident than because that corner of the building was exposed to the strong winds, which were sometimes nearly hurricanes. At all events they made an upright ladder by which she drew herself safely to the top. ‘The roof was flat, and in the drm light she saw the scuttle half opened. She crept safely to it, and stepped through, holding ‘her very breath as she descended the stairs. At the foot of the short flight she sat down to rest, and removed her shoes from her feet, put- ting them in the carpet bag still strapped upon her shoul- ders. She felt in her pocket for ite taper she had taken care to provide. All safe. Thus far everything had progressed favorably, but the most difficult task was yet to come, to pass the doors be- hind which those two men slept, and one she guessed occu- pied Doctor Morley’s old room which opened from the office, as 1t was always called, where the doctor had received his patients and pursued his studies, and into the latter apartment her errand led her. She sat there in the dark- ness, pale, but not trembling or faint-hearted. She went over her contemplated movements thoughtfully and decided that the first must be to unbolt the street door of the office, that in case of a surprise she might have all possible help to — escape. She said her little childish prayer for help also, and then she rose and softly and stealthily crept down into the second story. One of her foes, at least, was safely out of the way—his loud snoring breath came through the. thick door-way at regular intervals, like the ticking of a clock. ~ €omicbooks. nr