He made up his mind quickly. As the newcomer was slithering down the coal, Fatty jumped on him, made him overbalance and fall headlong into the farthest corner of the cellar.
Then, before he could pick himself up, Fatty struggled up the coal to the coal-hole. He felt it with his hands, gave himself a terrific heave up, and managed to balance himself in the middle of the opening. Gasping hard, he scrambled out, whilst from down below came the sound of mutterings and groanings.
Fatty had no idea at all that it was Clear-Orf down in the cellar. Once out of the hole, he felt about for the iron lid. Just as he was about to put it over the hole, Mr. Goon staggered to his feet, took his torch from his belt, and switched the light on so that the beam shone at the hole.
To Mr. Goon’s enormous astonishment he saw the face of “that Frenchy fellow” looking down at him! Yes, there was no doubt about it - there was the black curly hair, the pale face, the sticking-out teeth.
“Gr-r-r-r-r-r!” said Mr. Goon, so angry that he couldn’t speak properly. Fatty, blinded by the glare of the torch, blinked and hastily put the heavy lid back on the entrance to the coal-hole.
Then, afraid that his prisoner might do as he had done and climb out, Fatty dragged a barrel over the hole and stood it on top of the lid. It was about a quarter full of icy water, and it was quite certain that whoever was now down in the cellar could not get out either through the door or through the hole.
Fatty breathed more easily. The prisoner in the cellar began to shout and yell. But hardly a sound came up. Fatty did not think any one would hear the captive.
He crept silently round the hedges of the garden, on the look-out for any one else. But he saw nobody.
Then he heard a curious noise. What could it be? It was like a low and distant humming or throbbing.
“Sounds like an aeroplane,” said Fatty, puzzled. He looked up. To his surprise he saw what looked like a beam of light shining from the roof of Milton House.