To make sure, Fred studied both men. And not once did either of them
look back or up. Their attention did not seem to centre on the house at
all. It was as if their instructions were more to prevent a surprise
attack from outside, or the coming of some spy, than to watch those who
were already in the house.
Once he had made up his mind, Fred buried himself deeper in the
shrubbery and risked using his pocket flashlight while he wrote a note
to Boris, telling him what he had learned of the movements of the
sentries. He told Boris, also, not to draw up the rope at once, but to
climb from his window to the flat roof, something easy enough to manage,
and then to move along five paces. There the rope, when it was drawn up,
would be invisible against the grey stone of the house wall, whereas,
against a lighted window, it would show up so plainly that the most
stupid sentry would be sure to see it.
Fred had substituted a tennis ball for the stone he had originally
intended to throw. The ball had many advantages. In case his aim was
bad, the ball would not make a noise if it fell or if it struck against
the wall, while the sound of a stone would have betrayed them had he
failed to put it through the window.
Pages:
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100