“Perhaps so, sir, if I can work out my plan.”
“Yes, yes?”
“You know what’s under this floor, sir?”
“The underground passage where my ancestors used to hide from the Indians—yes, yes. Can we drop him through?”
“Sure, if I can get the tools in here to rip up some flooring and put it back. Will you stay here, locked in, while I push them into the window, for I daren’t bring them into the hall.”
“Yes, go, quickly,” and he let him out and closed and locked the door again, waiting, with a chill of horror at his heart, of that white and silent thing lying at his feet.
Presently there was a noise outside the window, and he went and took in the tools that Joslyn reached up to him. Then he admitted him, and they went at their grewsome work of hiding the mute witness of that terrible crime.
In the midst of their task came a light rap on the door.
“Uncle Hermann, I want you!” Jessie said, excitedly.
“I am engaged—excuse me,” he bawled, hoarsely, through the keyhole.