I felt my way along the wall toward where I remembered this special door to be, endeavoring to make no noise.

My eyes could discern outlines better by this time, and, as we approached, I became convinced the door we sought stood ajar.

I stopped, startled at the unexpected discovery, and began feeling about for the bar; it was not in the socket.

What could this mean?
Had Billie told us a false story, or had her prisoner, by some magical means, escaped?
She had said he was hacking at the wood with a knife; could he have cut a hole through sufficiently large to permit of his lifting the bar?
This seemed scarcely possible, yet no other theory suggested itself, and I stepped rather recklessly forward to investigate.

My foot struck against a body on the floor, and, but for Miles, I should have fallen.