garden behind an iron fence.

I grabbed the diamonds to throw them from me, but I couldn't--I
just couldn't! I jumped the fence where the gate was low, and
with that whistle flying shrill and shriller after me I ran to
the house.

I might have jumped from the frying-pan? Of course, I might. But
it was all fire to me. To be caught at the end is at least no
worse than to be caught at the beginning. Anyhow, it was my one
chance, and I took it as unhesitatingly as a rat takes a leap
into a trap to escape a terrier. Only--only, it was my luck that
the trap wasn't set! The room was empty. I pushed open a glass
door, and fell over an open trunk that stood beside it.

It bruised my knee and tore my hand, but oh!--it was nuts to me.
For it was a woman's trunk filled with women's things.

A skirt! A blessed skirt! And not a striped one. I threw off the
bell-boy's jacket and I got into that dear dress so quick it made
my head swim.

The jacket was a bit tight but I didn't button it, and I'd just
got a stiff little hat perched on my head when I heard the tramp
of men on the sidewalk, and in the dusk saw the cop's buttons at
the gate.

Caught? Not much. Not yet. I threw open the glass doors and
walked out into the garden.