brick on the grass under one of the front windows.

"Now, Timmy, you slip around to the back of the house," whispered
the young schemer. "Just as soon as you hear a crash you watch
your swiftest chance to slip into the house and upstairs to bed.
Understand?"

"Sure! What you-----"

"Don't stop to ask questions. Get on your mark and look out for
your own best interests!"

Rejoicing in the possession of such a valuable ally as Tom Reade,
Timmy vanished in the darkness. Tom Reade waited until he judged
that the youngster must be in position near the back door. Now
Tom gripped the bottle in his left hand, crouching over the brick.

With his felt hat in his right hand, Tom reached up, hitting a
window pane smartly with the hat. At the same instant he brought
the bottle crashing down over the brick.

As the bottle smashed against the brick Mr. Finbrink, in the dining
room of the house, jumped up so quickly that he dropped his pipe.

"Some young rascal has smashed a front window!" he gasped, as
he bolted into the parlor.

That was just what the noise had sounded like, and Tom Reade had
intended that it should do so.