“Oh, yes. The guard, while big enough to crush me with his bare hands, is really quite a simple soul. He’s friendly too, as long as I don’t try anything,” Derek went on.
“And he stays here all the time? Never leaves you alone?” Biff pressed his questions hurriedly. There wasn’t much time before he was to rejoin his uncle.
“No, Biff. He goes to the main house for my meals and his.” Derek looked at his watch. “He’ll be going any minute now. At six-thirty.”
“How can you be sure he’ll go at six-thirty?”
Derek grinned. “It would be funny if I weren’t a prisoner. My guard—his name is Crunch—can’t read. Can’t even tell time. He has me set an alarm clock for when it’s time for him to go get our food. When the alarm goes off, we eat.”
“And you set it for six-thirty.” Biff said this half aloud. His thoughts were racing as a plan was shaping up in his mind.
“Listen closely, Derek.”
The Dutch boy grasped the iron bars of the window in his hands and pulled himself nearer to Biff. Their heads were only inches apart.
“Do you remember an arched gateway leading into this place?”
“Yes. I remember it.”