Tom took the lantern, and as his uncle held up the trap-door, the boy went down, to return in two or three minutes with a small coil of thin, thoroughly trustworthy new rope, and a hammer and some strong nails; and as soon as the lantern and trap-door were secured, he began to knot the rope round his waist.
“I don’t like letting you go, Tom,” said Uncle Richard, with his lips to the boy’s ear.
“And I don’t like to go, uncle; but this knot can’t slip, and you won’t loose me.”
“No; you may depend upon that, my lad.”
“Very well, then: look here. I’ve brought the hammer and some nails. We can’t fasten the shutter safely here, it would only break away again.”
“Then it is of no use, boy; we must let the place take its chance.”
“We won’t, uncle,” screamed Tom, to make himself heard. “Look here: I know. Where I touched the nearest corner of the shutter it’s broken-away, so I shall get out in the gallery, turn it over into its place, and nail it down from outside.”
“Are you mad?” cried Uncle Richard. “How are you going to get in?”
“Shan’t get in. You’ll let me down outside.”
“Absurd, boy! The rope would be shut in the door, even if I would harbour such a wild scheme for a moment.”