...of a jailer

Finally she half opened her eyes, seeming to be dazzled by the light. Seizing her shoulders and shaking her, the man spoke rapidly and imploringly.
“Say, the ladder’s gone! Where’s the best place to climb out of here, for heaven’s sake? You can’t get out of a place like this without a ladder.”
She gathered up the towel with a nervous gesture, and with unexpected energy slapped her face with it a two or three times and then, completely turning her back to him, crouched with her knees doubled beneath her and her face to the floor. Was it a bashful movement? This was hardly the place. The man let out a shout as if a dam had given way.
“This is no joking matter! I don’t know what I’ll do if you don’t get that ladder out. I’m in a hurry! Where in God’s name did you hide it? I’ve had enough of your pranks. Give it here. At once!”
But she did not answer. She remained in the same position, simply shaking her head left and right.
He stiffened. His vision blurred, his breathing faltered and almost stopped; he abruptly realised the pointlessness of his questioning. The ladder was of rope. A rope ladder couldn’t stand up by itself. Even if he got his hands on it there was no possibility of setting it up from below - which meant that the woman had not taken it down, but someone else had taken it away from the road above. His unshaven face, smudged with sand, suddenly looked miserable.
The woman’s actions and her silence took on an unexpected and terrible meaning. He refused to believe it, yet in his heart he knew is worse fears had come true. The ladder had probably been removed with her knowledge, and doubtless with her full consent. Unmistakably she was an accomplice. Of course her posture had nothing to do with embarrassment; it was the posture of a sacrificial victim, of a criminal willing to accept any punishment. He had been lured by the beetle into a desert from which there was no escape - like some famished mouse.

[The Woman in the Dunes, Abe, K.]