But the men had paused long enough to throw the catch. It took Jerry a
full minute to break its grip.

When, at last, they vaulted cautiously over the sill and flashed their
light about the interior, they found the place empty.

"Dey's flew de coop!" whispered Jerry. "Now wot's de chanst of dem
makin' a clean git away?"

They made a hurried examination of all possible exits. All the window
ledges and doorsills were so encrusted with dust that one passing
through them would be sure to leave his mark. That is, all but one were.
One windowsill had apparently been swept clean. But that window faced
the river. As they threw it up, and looked down from its ledge, they saw
only the murky waters of the river swirling beneath them.

Johnny studied the situation carefully, and the more he studied, the
more baffled he became. If a boat had been tied to the windowsill there
would have been marks on the casing. There were no such marks; yet, the
fugitives had gone that way. He thought of the shots fired from the
river the previous night and tried to connect the two. He could not make
it out.

"Dey's gone!" said Jerry the Rat. "Did dey fleece y'?"

Johnny smiled. "They were trying to croak me, Jerry, and they nearly
did it. Got a bump on my head big as a turkey buzzard's egg."

"Who wuz dey?"