Both were ready within half a minute.
In another minute both were crouching on the roof.
Noiselessly they crept to the skylight and gazed down through the trapdoor on the red-glowing scene below.
“Thundering guns!” whispered Patsy, staring. “The rats are there, all right. They are melting a lot of silver plate.”
“Part of the Waldmere plate.”
“Surest thing you know.”
They could not see Nick, owing to the location of the trap in the upper floor, but while listening intently—they heard him addressed by Floyd and his name mentioned.
“Holy smoke!” Patsy then whispered. “They’ve got the chief.”
“I heard,” Chick nodded, feeling over the skylight.
“Hadn’t we better get help and force an entrance?”