Her cry was one of absolute amazement. Through the grating she saw her long lost friend, starting up from his cot where he had been reading when Bill’s exclamation caused him to look around. Terry advanced to the door and greeted them.
“Well, by all that’s wonderful! Dorothy! Bill Bolton! What—”
“Are you all right? You’re not hurt or anything?” Dorothy’s excited whisper broke in upon his incoherent surprise.
“No, I’m safe and sound, except that I’m pretty tired of reading—cooped up in this hole. But say, how did you two manage to get down here?”
“Through the tunnel,” replied Bill with a grin.
“Gee, is there a tunnel, too? Never heard of it. How about that lad Peters and the others—you didn’t see them?”
“No, we came through the cellar. Have you any idea where they are?”
“Upstairs, probably—in the house—playing cards. Since Peters came here a few days ago he’s been bringing me my grub. He’s quite chatty; likes to boast about how he trims those others at poker.”
“How many men are there altogether, do you know?” asked Dorothy.
“I’ve never seen more than three at a time, unless you count their be-whiskered pilot I mixed it up with at the beach club. Remember him, Dorothy? But he doesn’t come around much, so Peters says. He doesn’t like him—thinks he’s high-hat.”