“That is very serious,” he said, “as this rope will not stand both of us, and it is so dark that I cannot first lower you till you just reach the water.”
“But I can climb well,” said the boy.
“That is all right then, but remember the rope is very wet.”
Ian tied the two ends together and lowered them slowly, till the rope hung looped at its middle point round the bed post.
“Now, as you cannot swim I must go first. I only hope the rope is long enough. It cannot be more than a few feet short anyway, and worse come to the worst you must take a long breath and drop into the water. But before letting go, when your legs are dangling, grip one end of the rope and hold it, cut the rope above and the other end will fly up and we can pull it through. I want to leave no evidence.”
Ian gave him a knife and then climbed out and gently let himself noiselessly down the rope. He found that the ends hung about two and a half feet above the water, just beyond a swimmer’s reach.
Wilfred then followed, full of apprehension. When near the bottom Ian whispered,—“Hold on, but let your feet down into the water.” As the boy’s feet reached the moat, Ian trod water and put his arms up to him. This reassured him; as the child, who could not swim, naturally shrank from the plunge into the black deeps in the specially trying surroundings.
“Cut the rope, hold the knotted end tight and let go,” said Ian. As the boy dropped, he caught him and by going under himself prevented the boy from being completely submerged.
“Give me the rope,” and Ian pulled down a long length so as to swim over. “Hold on to me,” and he swam across.
Just as they reached the bank the short end ran up suddenly, and the whole rope fell with a loud splash.