Finding no outlet on any side, he turned his attention to the pavements above. From one spot there came a faint glimmer of light, in a circle, and he rightfully guessed that the coal-hole was located there.
How to reach the hole was a problem. It was several feet above our hero’s head, and there was nothing in the coal-vault to stand upon.
Jerry considered the situation for a minute, and then, standing directly under the cover of the hole, leaped upward, sending his hand over his head as he did so.
The cover was loose, and the force of the blow caused it to fly upward. Another blow and it fell away entirely, and in a second more the young oarsman was clambering out of the opening.
It was drawing towards evening, and the street was full of people, some of which eyed the boy curiously. Restoring the cover to its place, he left the spot.
The question now was, should he return to Slocum’s office or seek outside assistance? He decided upon the latter course. To attempt to bring the rascally real estate agent to terms alone would be foolhardy.
Jerry’s head ached so much he could think only with difficulty, and he decided to return to Nellie Ardell’s apartments. It was a hard walk, and he was glad when the place was reached and he could sit down.
“What’s the matter—are you hurt?” cried the young woman.
“I was knocked out,” replied the youth, with a sorry little laugh. “I’ve got a pretty big lump on the top of my head.”
Sitting down, he told his story, to which Nellie Ardell listened with breathless attention.