CHAPTER IX
At two o’clock a light flashed in the brush over in the Park.
“Are you there?” it asked.
Dee’s flash winked back “Yes!”
“Bill talking,” said the flash in the Park.
“Don’t waste time,” begged Dee.
“Going to throw rope,” said Bill. “Where’s best window?”
“Side next to Corey’s,” Dee replied, remembering that side of the house had a blank wall until it was broken by the dormer window in the third story. He hurried over to that window and with his pocket knife cut the screen. It was rotted by the wind and rain, and crumbled easily under his knife blade. Then he leaned far out and distinguished four dark forms creeping beside the house.
Bill’s flash sent up a single gleam. Dee answered it. As Dee leaned out, a slim line, weighted at the end, whirled toward him and fell. Again it rose, this time reaching the level of the window. Over and over this happened, one after another of the group below trying to send the weighted end close enough for Dee to seize it. Suddenly he waved to the fellows to stop, and withdrew his head. Flashing his light over the attic, he spied a bed-slat and carried it to the window, then waved a signal for the ropes to be thrown. Holding the slat at right angles with the window, the third trial sent the rope whirling over the slat, and Dee grabbed it. He rapidly drew it up, knowing that the other end would hold some sort of instructions. Sure enough, there was a scrap in Frank’s handwriting, so Dee knew that both Frank and Ernest must be below.