“And I’m going to escape if I can,” he told himself. “I don’t need any more time to think over what I’m going to do. They shan’t have a glance at dad’s models and papers.”
A rapid survey of the room showed him that it had but one window and that was heavily barred. He raised the sash softly and tried the bars. They were rusty but held firmly in the wood.
“No use trying that way,” murmured Joe. He heard the hum of voices in the outer room and listened at the keyhole.
“Don’t you think he can get away?” he heard the man who had brought him to the place ask the others.
“I don’t believe he’ll try,” was the answer from Mr. Benjamin. “After all, we couldn’t hope to keep him a prisoner long. There would be too much hue and cry over it. All I expect is that he’ll be so worried and frightened that he’ll tell us what we want to know.”
“Oh, you’ve got another think coming,” whispered Joe.
He walked back to the window once more and, as he crossed the room he saw what looked like a trap door in the floor. Kneeling down he applied his nose to the crack. There came up the damp, musty smell of a cellar.
“That’s it!” cried Joe. “If I can get that door up I can drop into the cellar even if there aren’t any stairs, and I guess I can get out of the cellar. But can I get that door up?”
There was no ring to lift it by, and no handle, but Joe was a resourceful lad and in an instant his knife was out. With the big blade inserted in the crack he managed to raised the door a trifle. He endeavored to hold the advantage he had gained until he could take out the knife blade and insert it again farther down, but the door slipped through his fingers.
“I’ve got to get some way of holding it up after each time I pry,” he thought. A hurried search through his pockets brought to light part of a broken toe plate. He had had a new one put on for the Academy game, and had thrust the broken piece in the pocket of his trousers.