I could never tell whether I really took aim or not, but the arrow infallibly hit the mark.

In my dreams I always saw it flying, and when this bow came to hand a thought of what the two might accomplish came with it.

Yet even then I had no real idea of putting into practice this fancy of a distempered brain.

I brought the bow up from the cellar and hid it unstrung in the Curator's closet, more from idle impulse I fondly thought, than from any definite purpose.

Another day I saw the Curator's keys lying on his desk and took them to open a passage to the upper floor.