“She isn’t Anona Freedlander. That’s it, isn’t it?”
“You bet she isn’t,” I said excitedly. “Don’t you see? It was Anona who died of heart failure at Crestways! And the girl in Salzer’s sanatorium is Janet Crosby!”
III
We stood at the foot of the almost perpendicular cliff and stared up into the darkness. Far out to sea a great red glow in the sky pin-pointed the burning Dream Ship. A mushroom of smoke hung in the night sky.
“Up there?” Kerman said. “What do you think I am—a monkey?”
“That’s something you’d better discuss with your father,” I said, and grinned in the darkness. “There’s no other way. The front entrance is guarded by two electrically-controlled gates, and all the barbed wire in the world. If we’re going to get in, this is the way.”
Kerman drew back to study die face of the cliff.
“Three hundred feet if it’s an inch,” he said, awe in his voice. “Will I love every foot of it!”
“Well, come on. Let’s try, anyway.”
The first twenty feet was easy enough. Big boulders formed a platform at the foot of the cliff; they were simple enough to climb. We stood side by side on a flat rock while I sent the beam of my torch up into the darkness. The jagged face of the cliff towered above us, and, almost at the top, bulged out, forming what seemed an impassable barrier.