CHAPTER VII.
A MIDNIGHT ADVENTURE.
Tom Somers was an enterprising young man, as our readers have already discovered; and when the door of the finished room in the attic of Squire Pemberton's house was fastened upon him, he was not at all disposed to submit to the fate which appeared to be in store for him.

The idea of becoming a victim to the squire's malice was not to be entertained, and he threw himself upon the bed to devise some means by which he might make his escape.
The prospect was not encouraging, for there was only one window in the chamber, and the distance to the ground was suggestive of broken limbs, if not of a broken neck.

Tom had read the Life of Baron Trenck, and of Stephen Burroughs, but the experience of neither of these worthies seemed to be available on the present occasion.
As the family had not yet retired, it would not be safe to commence operations for some hours.

The stale, commonplace method of tying the sheets and blankets together, and thus forming a rope by which he could descend to the ground, occurred to him; but he had not much confidence in the project.

He lay quietly on the bed till he heard the clocks on the churches at the Harbor strike twelve.