“I’ll jump for it. I think there’s one bare chance I can make it,” thought Ned.
He crouched, flexing his muscles for a supreme effort. Carefully measuring the distance with his eyes he shot straight upward for the edge of the skylight frame. His finger tips clutched the sides, slipped and then his grip gave way.
Down he came, crashing, with boxes and bales tumbling about him and creating a fearful uproar. As he struck the ground he lay quite still. Apparently he had not been injured, though how he escaped, he could hardly make out himself.
He got upon his feet and listened. He could not hear a sound outside.
“They’ve deserted the place like a lot of rats,” he exclaimed. “There’s nothing left for me to do but to try again. I guess——”
Outside the door sounded a trampling of feet. The crash of Ned’s down-toppling pyramid had then, after all, been heard outside. In another minute they would be in the room, and then——?
A key grated in the lock. Ned darted behind a large barrel which lay on its side in a corner of the place. Crouching there like a hunted thing, he heard the door flung open and several men tramp into the room. Above the voices that broke into hub-bub when the wreck of Ned’s pile of boxes was seen, Schmidt’s could be heard plainly.
“Himmel! He’s climbed py der schylighdt oudt!” shrilled the German.
“If he has, we’ve got him then!” came another voice. “He can’t get off that roof.”
“Ach no! Dot is so!” cried the German jubilantly. “We haf him like a leedle mouse midt a cat. Gedt a latter, somebodty. Donner! Ve dondt vant to loose him now. Idt vould mean der ruination of der ‘Fair Vind.’”