The window was a little square one, high up from the floor, and it looked on the inner quadrangle.
The room was on the top storey--the eighth--and from it you had a view sheer to the ground.

Twenty feet below ran a narrow cornice about a foot wide; three feet or so above the window another and wider cornice jutted out, and above that was the high steep roof of the hotel, though you could not see it from the window.

As Racksole examined the window and the outlook, he said to himself that Jules could not escape by that exit, at any rate.

He gave a glance up the chimney, and saw that the flue was far too small to admit a man's body.
Then he called in the commissionaire, and together they bound Jules firmly to the bedstead, allowing him, however, to lie down.

All the while the captive never opened his mouth--merely smiled a smile of disdain.