He did not confide his intentions this time to his two friends. He knew his way now. In five minutes he had captured the ladder and placed it against the wall.
He was just stepping off it on to the ledge, when he heard footsteps beneath him, perilously near. If he attempted to draw up the ladder, the noise must attract attention. His only chance was to keep quite still, in the hope that the ladder wouldn’t be noticed in the dark.
But it was. Old John happened to have finished his tea earlier than usual, and was on his way to fetch an armful of wood.
“Now, who’s been taking my ladder!” he said to himself. “Suppose it’s one of them boys wanting to get their balls off the ledge.”
He put the ladder on his shoulder and marched off with it.
Berry listened in horror. He did not know it was John who had captured his only means of retreat; whoever it was, he must throw himself on his mercy.
“Hi!” he called out, in a voice meant to combine a shout and a whisper.
“Hi! you there!”
It was a shout this time and no mistake. But it had no effect.
Berry knew now it must be John. It was no use to shout. He tore off a piece of plaster, and shied it in the direction of the retreating figure.