It was a grand night for a revolution, the air so clear that all sounds must carry near and far.
Bending down, I discovered that the opening in the roof through which we had come could be closed in time of need by a couple of wooden doors.
Robbins, upon gaining the azotea, bent down and quietly dropped these; it would hardly have mattered if he had banged them, since the noise below was so very deafening—they had found the nest empty, the bird flown.
Of course, search would follow—every nook and corner of the big casa coming in for the closest investigation.
And some bright mind, groping for ideas, would think of the roof, when it must speedily be discovered where we were at bay.
What then?
The first thing to be done, of course, was to secure the trap by some means so that it could not be opened from below.
While Robbins stood upon it they might heave and batter all they pleased, without budging such a Colossus; but Robbins could not occupy all his time in making a statue of himself; besides, he would be needed elsewhere, and perchance, bullets might come soaring up through that trap that would make his tenure of office very uncertain.
I had an idea.
My eye in roving about the azotea had already lighted upon some chairs and settees gathered under a section near by that seemed to be protected by a temporary awning.