"These Jennies have glass and china, you see.

We'll break a glass from the bathroom and use that.

'Love will find out a way,'" he hummed.

"When we're all out of the window, we'll stand three-man high and cut the rope as far up as we can reach, so as to have more for the wall.

I know just where I saw that bit of path below, and there's a big tree there, too, or a vine or something--I saw the leaves." It seemed a crazy risk to take, but this was, in a way, Terry's expedition, and we were all tired of our imprisonment.
So we waited for full moon, retired early, and spent an anxious hour or two in the unskilled manufacture of man-strong ropes.
To retire into the depths of the closet, muffle a glass in thick cloth, and break it without noise was not difficult, and broken glass will cut, though not as deftly as a pair of scissors.
The broad moonlight streamed in through four of our windows--we had not dared leave our lights on too long--and we worked hard and fast at our task of destruction.
Hangings, rugs, robes, towels, as well as bed-furniture--even the mattress covers--we left not one stitch upon another, as Jeff put it.
Then at an end window, as less liable to observation, we fastened one end of our cable, strongly, to the firm-set hinge of the inner blind, and dropped our coiled bundle of rope softly over.
"This part's easy enough--I'll come last, so as to cut the rope," said Terry.
So I slipped down first, and stood, well braced against the wall; then Jeff on my shoulders, then Terry, who shook us a little as he sawed through the cord above his head.