“Here. I have prepared.”
It was dark and he could not see, but he followed the sheet to its end with his hand and found that it was fastened to the bedpost. How she had managed to move the heavy bed across the room he did not know, and it was unnecessary to question, for there it was. He reassured himself as to the knot that she had made and then fastened his own sheets to the other end.
“Do you think you can manage it alone? It will not hold us both.”
“Try me,” she whispered bravely.
“The rope will reach almost to the kitchen roof.”
“Yes, it is just below. I could see the edge of it through the shutter this afternoon.”
He caught her in his arms and their lips met.
“I will go first. Then when the tension relaxes, you follow.”
She pressed his hand as he slid his feet out of the window and paused crouching on the ledge listening. Then he waved his hand and slowly went down. He knew that the angle of the building quite hid him from the garden path, and he slid down the improvised rope as quickly as he could until his feet dangled in space. He looked below him, but in the darkness the distance was uncertain. Had Lindberg miscalculated? Or had Doris used too much of the sheet at the upper end? He let himself down until his hands groped the end of the sheet while he felt for a landing with his toes. He touched nothing, and still swayed and spun in the air like an apple on a string at All Hallowe’en, a fine mark for an automatic from any of the windows that stared blankly at him from the second story. There was nothing for it but to drop, stretching his toes down to meet the impact. Fortunately it was not far, but he lost his balance and toppled sideways, catching himself upon an arm and knee. Here again the wind saved him from discovery, but he drew his weapon and kept a look on the corner of the garden, meanwhile watching for Doris.
She came at once, slowly but fearlessly, and in a moment he had her safely in his arms, drawing her back near the bulk of the building to crouch and wait and listen again. They did not dare to speak, but Hammersley’s blood was surging madly with hope. If they had not been discovered now, the chances were that some time would elapse, enough at least to enable the fugitives to get a good start of their pursuers. But the dangling sheet warned Hammersley that they must move quickly. He peered over the edge of the roof. A light was burning in the kitchen, but whether the room was occupied or not, he could not tell. He did not dare risk a sprained ankle by jumping, but found that by lowering himself he could easily reach the fuel box that stood near the kitchen door. In a moment they were on the ground and moving along in the shelter of the hedge toward the hangar.