The ivy had crawled up the wall face and followed the cornice up and over somewhere, over the edge of the eaves, finding some sort of holding ground.

It served to support her weight at least until she felt the ladder underfoot.

At this in turn she clutched as she dropped lower, but frail and rotten as it was, it supported her but slightly.

The next instant she felt, herself falling.
[Illustration: She grasped wildly at the screen of ivy.] She dropped out and down, struck heavily, and had but consciousness enough left to half-rise.

Before her eyes shone scores of little pointed lights.