The window in question was heavily grated; that which I saw was tied to one of the bars.

It was a small knot of some white stuff--linen apparently--and it seemed a trifle to the eye; but it was looped, as far as I could see from a distance, after the same fashion as the scrap of velvet I had in my pouch.
The conclusion was obvious, at the same time that it inspired me with the liveliest admiration of mademoiselle's wit and resources.

She was confined in that room; the odds were that she was behind those bars.

A bow dropped thence would fall, the wind being favourable, into the lane, not ten, but twenty paces from the street.

I ought to have been prepared for a slight inaccuracy in a woman's estimate of distance.
It may be imagined with what eagerness I now scanned the house, with what minuteness I sought for a weak place.