Alan shook him. "The girl's room—where they've got her now."
"Key to Bluebeard's room—don't get excited—I'm not excited." He was trembling. "When you come to live here—"
"Charlie, listen! I want to help that girl—get her out of here. She isn't sick."
"I can get out of here—but my mother told me not to. I've got a key to the little gate in the fence behind the tennis court. I've had it a long time. You know how to make a key? You take wax and get an impression—I had a locksmith make the key when I was home at Christmas. Mother thought it was my trunk key—but it wasn't. I thought I might use it to slip out and go home some night. Only mother would be angry. And I had Bluebeard's key made at the same time—that's the key to the roof, where you can see things—"
From the door I caught a glimpse of a man approaching along the corridor.
"Alan! Here he comes!"
Alan said vehemently: "Charlie, listen! Get this right! Tonight, about ten o'clock! Can you have your keys and come to the tennis court gate?"
"Yes! Tonight—"
"Can you get there, alone? Tell nobody? Let nobody see you!"
"Yes. At night—dark deeds, alone." He heard Dr. Turber's step. He added swiftly: "I'll be there—ten o'clock tonight! I can hide you in my room. At eleven, they're all asleep—we'll go to the roof—I call it Bluebeard's—"