Bunny gave a grunt, took hold of the rope, and as he was squeezing himself out to stand with his feet in the gutter. Waller caught hold of his friend’s hand, gave it a grip, and then crept to the door, turned the key softly, opened it and listened there, to hear the murmur of voices down in the hall.
He turned the key again and darted back to the window, to feel the rope quivering for a few moments and then slacken.
Bunny was at the bottom.
“Now can I help you?” whispered Waller.
“No,” was the reply. “I can manage.” But Waller’s heart beat fast and a strange choking sensation seemed to rise in his breast as the boy, hampered by his stiff petticoat-trousers, had no little difficulty in getting clear of the window.
The next minute he was letting himself glide down, rustling loudly through the ivy.
Waller waited, leaning half out of the window and gazing down till he was satisfied that his companion was nearly at the bottom, when he hurried back to the door, unlocked it and withdrew the key, and then, opening, he felt for the hole and thrust the key in on the outer side.
“There,” he muttered; “when they come up here, they won’t suspect me.”
It was his turn now, and, full of activity, he crept out of the window and stood for a moment amongst the ivy in the gutter, and then began to slide so quickly down the double rope that his hands were ready to burn. As he touched the soft earth he felt Bunny thrust him aside and take hold of one end of the rope.
“You haul steadily,” he whispered; and as the lad drew on the rope the big country fellow laid it in rings at his feet. “Mind your head,” he whispered, “when t’other end falls.”