Chapter Nineteen

‘Jo!’ said the boys together, and their spirits lifted at once. ‘Come on!’

There was no one about in the yard. Jo skipped lightly across from the doorway and slipped inside the shed.

‘There’s a knife in my back pocket,’ said Julian. ‘Get it out. It would be quicker to cut these ropes than to untie them. My word, Jo—I was never so pleased to see anyone in my life!’

Jo grinned as she hauled out Julian’s sturdy pocket–knife. She opened it and ran her thumb lightly over the blade. It was beautifully sharp. She set to work to saw the blade across the thick rope. It cut easily through the fibres.

‘I waited behind,’ she said, rapidly. ‘Then I followed when it was safe. But it was very dark and I didn’t like it. Then I came to that door and peeped out. I was glad when I saw you.’

‘Good thing the men didn’t guess you were there,’ said Dick. ‘Good old Jo! I take back any nasty thing I’ve ever said about you!’

Jo beamed. She cut the last bit of rope that bound Julian, and he swung himself away from the iron loop and began to rub his stiff, aching wrists. Jo set to work on Dick’s bonds. She soon had those cut through, too.

‘Where’s George?’ she asked, after she had helped Dick to rub his wrists and arms.

‘Up in that tower,’ said Julian. ‘If we dared to go out in that yard you could look up and see her. And there’s poor old Tim, look—half–doped—lying in that summer–house place over there.’

‘I shan’t let him be shot,’ said Jo. ‘He’s a nice dog. I shall go and drag him down into those caves underground.’

‘Not now!’ said Julian, horrified. ‘If you’re seen now, you’ll spoil everything. We’ll all be tied up then!’

But Jo had already darted over to the summer–house and was fondling poor old Timmy.

The slam of a door made the boys jump and sent Jo into the shadows at the back of the summer–house at once. It was Red, coming across the yard!

‘Quick! He’s coming over here!’ said Dick, in a panic. ‘Let’s get back to the iron loops and put our hands behind us so that he thinks we’re still bound.’

So, when Red came over to the door of the shed, it looked exactly as if the boys still had their hands tied behind them. He laughed.

‘You can stay here till the police come!’ he said. Then he shut the shed door and locked it. He strolled over to the helicopter and examined it thoroughly. Then back he went to the door he had come from, opened it, and slammed it shut. He was gone.

When everything was quiet Jo sped back from the summer–house to the shed. She unlocked the door of the shed. ‘Come out,’ she said. ‘And we’ll lock it again. Then nobody will know you aren’t here. Hurry!’

There was nothing for it but to come out and hope there was nobody looking. Jo locked the shed door after them and hurried them back to the door that led underground. They slipped through it and half–fell down the steep steps.

‘Thanks, Jo,’ said Dick.

They sat down. Julian scratched his head, and for the life of him could not think of anything sensible to do. The police were not coming because they didn’t know a thing about Red, or where George was or anything. And before long George would be flown off in that helicopter, and Timmy would be shot.

Julian thought of the high square tower and groaned. ‘There’s no way of getting George out of that tower,’ he said aloud. ‘It’ll be locked and barred, or George would have got out at once. We can’t even get to her. It’s no good trying to make our way into the house—we’d be seen and caught at once.’

Jo looked at Dick. ‘Do you badly want George to be rescued?’ she said.

‘That’s a silly question,’ said Dick. ‘I want it more than anything else in the world.’

‘Well—I’ll go and get her, then,’ said Jo, and she got up as if she really meant it.

‘Don’t make jokes now,’ said Julian. ‘This really is serious, Jo.’

‘Well, so am I,’ retorted Jo. ‘I’ll get her out, you see if I don’t. Then you’ll know I’m trustable, won’t you? You think I’m mean and thieving and not worth a penny, and I expect you’re right. But I can do some things you can’t, and if you want this thing, I’ll do it for you.’

‘How?’ said Julian, astonished and disbelieving.

Jo sat down again.

‘You saw that tower, didn’t you?’ she began. ‘Well, it’s a big one, so I reckon there’s more than one room in it—and if I can get into the room next to George’s I could undo her door and set her free.’

‘And how do you think you’re going to get into the room next to hers?’ said Dick, scornfully.

‘Climb up the wall, of course,’ said Jo. ‘It’s set thick with ivy. I’ve often climbed up walls like that.’

The boys looked at her. ‘Were you the Face at the Window by any chance?’ said Julian, remembering Anne’s fright. ‘I bet you were. You’re like a monkey, climbing and darting about. But you can’t climb up that great high wall, so don’t think it. You’d fall and be killed. We couldn’t let you.’

‘Pooh!’ said Jo, with great scorn. ‘Fall off a wall like that! I’ve climbed up a wall without any ivy at all! There’s always holes and cracks to hold on to. That one would be easy!’

Julian was quite dumbfounded to think that Jo really meant all this. Dick remembered that Jo’s father was an acrobat. Perhaps that kind of thing was in the family.

‘You just ought to see me on a tight–rope,’ said Jo earnestly. ‘I can dance on it—and I never have a safety–net underneath—that’s baby–play! Well, I’m going.’

Without another word she climbed the steep steps lightly as a goat and stood poised in the archway of the door. All was quiet. Like a squirrel she leapt and bounded over the courtyard and came to the foot of the ivy–covered tower. Julian and Dick were now at the doorway that led into the yard, watching her.

‘She’ll be killed,’ said Julian.

‘Talk about pluck!’ said Dick. ‘I never saw such a kid in my life. There she goes—just like a monkey.’

And, sure enough, up the ivy went Jo, climbing lightly and steadily. Her hands reached out and tested each ivy–stem before she threw her weight on it, and her feet tried each one, too, before she stood on it.

Once she slipped when an ivy–stem came away from the wall. Julian and Dick watched, their hearts in their mouths. But Jo merely clutched at another piece of stem and steadied herself once. Then up she went again.

Up and up. Past the first storey, past the second, and up to the third. Only one more now and she would be up to the topmost one. She seemed very small as she neared the top.

‘I can’t bear to look and I can’t bear not to,’ said Dick, pretending to shield his eyes and almost trembling with nervousness. ‘If she fell now—what should we do?’

‘Do shut up,’ said Julian, between his teeth. ‘She won’t fall. She’s like a cat. There—she’s making for the window next to George’s. It’s open at the bottom.’

Jo now sat triumphantly on the broad window–sill of the room next to George’s. She waved impudently to the boys far below. Then she pushed with all her might at the window to open it a little more. It wouldn’t budge.

So Jo laid herself flat, and by dint of much wriggling and squeezing, she managed to slip through the narrow space between the bottom of the window–pane and the sill. She disappeared from sight.

Both boys heaved heartfelt sighs of relief. Dick found that his knees were shaking. He and Julian retired into the underground passage below the steep steps and sat there in silence.

‘Worse than a circus,’ said Dick at last. ‘I’ll never be able to watch acrobats again. What’s she doing now, do you suppose?’

Jo was very busy. She had fallen off the inside window–sill with a bump, and bruised herself on the floor below. But she was used to bruises.

She picked herself up and shot behind a chair in case anyone had heard her. Nobody seemed to have heard anything, so she peeped cautiously out. The room was furnished with enormous pieces of furniture, old and heavy. Dust was on everything, and cobwebs hung down from the stone ceiling.

Jo tiptoed to the door. Her feet were bare and made no sound at all. She looked out. There was a spiral stone stairway nearby going downwards, and on each side was a door—there must be four rooms in the tower then, one for each corner, two windows in each. She looked at the door next to the room she was in. That must be the door of George’s room.

There was a very large key in the lock, and a great bolt had been drawn across. Jo leapt across and dragged at the bolt. It made a loud noise and she darted back into the room again. But still nobody came. Back she went to the door again, and this time turned the enormous key. It was well oiled and turned easily.

Jo pushed open the door and put her head cautiously round. George was there—a thin and unhappy George, sitting by the window. She stared at Jo as if she couldn’t believe her eyes!

‘Psssst!’ said Jo, enjoying all this very much indeed. ‘I’ve come to get you out!’