“It does. But we don’t know till we hear from Patsy.”
“There doesn’t seem to be any way to get hold of Patsy. I suppose we shall have to wait,” remarked Chick. “We ought to be doing something in the meantime, I should think. What do you intend to do until Patsy comes or lets us know?”
“Well, I think our best proceeding would be to have the butler bring us up a sandwich or two and some good coffee. If you’re not hungry, I am,” replied the chief, with a smile.
CHAPTER XV.
TRACKED!
It may be interesting to know just how T. Burton Potter did escape from the roof when he made that desperate leap in the darkness across the width of the alley.
Almost any athlete would not think much of clearing nine or ten feet between marks on the ground, with everything favorable for the feat. Such performances are done at most athletic meets without causing surprise or any other particular emotion.
But, sixty feet up in the air, with the certainty that any slip would mean crashing down on hard stones, a heap of mangled nothingness, it was a different thing.
If T. Burton Potter had stopped to think for a second, he might have hesitated. It would have been no reflection on his courage if he had. But he had no time to think, and over he went.
For a few seconds after landing safely on the other roof, he lay down behind the parapet. He had two reasons for this. One was to recover his breath, and the other was to keep out of sight of his pursuers.