When they next rested De Richleau encouraged him again. “It is early yet, it cannot be more than ten o’clock; another hour and we shall be out of this. Listen! What was that?”
With straining ears they stood in the darkness; the noise did not come from the passage, but from above. Something heavy was moving on the roof. As they watched, a black form blotted out the stars that had, a moment before, been shining through Simon’s hole; something moved in the opening, and suddenly a bright light blinded them. It went out instantly, and they heard the welcome sound of Rex’s voice:
“Holy smoke! I’m glad it’s you!”
“Thank the Lord you’re safe,” whispered Simon; “there’s a guard outside the door, but if you can make the hole a bit bigger we’ll soon be out.” He mounted on the Duke’s shoulders again, and in feverish haste they worked away at the roofing.
“Did you hear the dust-up?” Rex whispered. “Two of those birds’ll never see Manhattan Island any more. I ran right in on ’em — thought they were you!”
“How did you find us?” Simon whispered back.
“The Snow Queen kid got rattled when you didn’t get back in the hour, so I came up to have a look-see. Ever since the dust-up I’ve been snooping round, mostly on the roof — or what’s left of it. Good thing I had that practice in the Rockies last fall. Then I spotted your light, and a hand throwing bits of roof out. Reckon you can get through now?”
Simon slid to the ground and they surveyed the hole with their torches. Rex’s big hands had made a lot of difference; De Richleau nodded. “That will do; up you go, Simon.”
“No, go on,” said Simon, “you first.”
The Duke’s answer was to pick his young friend up by the knees and hold him aloft. “You waste time,” he said, tersely.