It seemed to come from the rear of the house. Dashing up the steps to the front porch, Frank tried the door. It was locked. Still another cry from the woman!
“Around to the rear!” cried Frank, as Lanky and he turned back from the resisting front door.
They dashed as fast as their legs could carry them around the large building, coming to the rear porch, or gallery, which faced toward the river road, and up to which a broad driveway led.
Swish! The starting of a motor! Then a light flashed and an automobile moved out from the drive at the garage a hundred feet away!
“There they go!” both boys cried in the same breath, just as a loud cry came from within:
“Help! Let me out!”
It was just over their heads. Frank looked up, but could see nothing. The night was as black as ink.
Rushing up the steps to the wide back porch, the two boys tried the door. It gave to their touch. Both tried to get in at the same time, and for a second wedged each other.
Again Mrs. Parsons, for in all probability it was she, screamed, and Frank dived through the dark for the direction indicated by her voice.
“Find a light, Lanky, quick!” he cried, feeling about for the door.