They picked up the ladder and looked toward the
asylum building. It was dark, save where a faint light showed through one
window, and Frank knew this was in a corridor.
"Do you know which is the window of his room?" asked Ned.
"Yes," replied Frank. "It's the third one from the right hand end of the
building, in the second story. The ladder will more than reach, as the
windows are low ones."
Foot by foot they advanced, listening every little while, to find out
if their approach was noticed. But there was only the wind and rain
to be heard.
"Here we are," whispered Frank, as they came to a halt beneath the window
of room twenty-eight. "Now help me raise the ladder."
Four pair of sturdy young arms soon accomplished this, though it was hard
work. While the three boys steadied the ladder at the bottom, Frank went
up it. He held some pebbles in his hand and, when he could safely throw
them at the glass he did so, making the signal agreed upon with his
father. The little stones made more noise than he supposed they would,
but he hoped no one but Mr. Roscoe would hear them. Frank, standing on
the ladder under the window waited anxiously.
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