“Okay, then let’s do the job,” Mr. Parker returned. “Remember, if we muff it, we’ll do our explaining to a judge.”
Separating into groups so that they would not attract attention, Penny and the five men approached the Tower. A light glowed from within, and the caretaker could be seen moving about in the tiny living room.
Tying handkerchiefs over their faces, Salt and Jerry rapped on the back door. Charley Phelps opened it to find himself gazing into the blinding light of two flashlights.
“Say, what—” he began but did not finish.
Jerry and Salt had seized his arms. Before he could make another sound, they shoved a gag into his mouth, and dragging him into the Tower, closed the door. Working swiftly, they trussed his hands and feet and pushed him into a machinery room.
“Nice work, boys,” Mr. Parker praised.
“Listen!” whispered Penny, who had followed the men into the Tower.
The clock had begun to strike the hour of midnight.
“Get up there quickly and do your stuff!” her father commanded. “You’ve not much time!”
Two steps at a time, Penny raced up the steep iron stairway which led to the belfry of the Tower. Anxiously, she counted the strokes as they pealed forth loud and clearly. Eight—nine—ten. The clock had never seemed to strike so fast before. Desperately she wondered if she could reach the belfry in time.