“But, look here,” piped up Tommy. “You were at the window when the bell was doing its stunts. How—how was that?”
“Simple, too,” answered Pete, waving aside a cloud of smoke. “There was a noose in the end of the rope and the noose fitted over my knee as I kneeled on the floor. It was hard work and I guess the hide’s about wore off, but it was all for the sake of Art.”
The three deluged him with questions simultaneously, and Pete, sitting nonchalantly on the edge of the table, answered them as best he could.
“But how about the rope?” asked Allan finally. “They’ll see it and trace it through the window.”
“Oh, no, they won’t, because, my boy, it isn’t there any longer. When I said I’d put something on and let you fellows in, I cut it off at the foot of the tower and brought my end of it away. They’ll find a rope there, all right, but they’ll never guess it went through the back window. Besides, I can prove an alibi,” he ended, with a generous and virtuous smile.
“That’s so,” answered Tommy. “We saw you at the window.”
“When the bell was ringing,” added Hal.
“And I saw both his hands,” supplemented Allan.
“Yes, I meant you should,” said Pete. Going to the trunk he took from behind it the lariat which usually hung on the wall, and from one end of it detached a few feet of hemp rope. This he put into the stove. The lariat he replaced upon the wall.
“Thus we destroy all evidences of guilt,” he said.