Walter searched carefully, but in vain, for any lock, bolt, or other fastening.
"If I only had a sledge, or hammer, and cold chisel, I'd cut these grates off, short notice."
"I saw a crowbar outside, among some garden tools," said Ned.
"Get it; that's the thing."
Walter plied the bar upon the grates till the sparks flew from the iron, and the sweat dropped from his forehead; but it resisted his efforts.
"Let me spell you, Wal."
"Try the wood below, Ned."
"It is oak, and studded with iron; but I'll try it."
After a few blows, the door flew open of its own accord. Ned, by a random stroke, had moved the spring.
"That's good luck, Ned. Go ahead."