They walked round to the back, came through
a window into a bathroom, through the bathroom on to the servants'
staircase, and went right down into the basement.
"I get up early in the morning before the servants, and I had to find a
way out," said Tinker in an explanatory whisper.
He led the way through the kitchen into a long passage, set with the
doors of cellars on either side. At the end of the passage was a short
ladder with rounded iron rungs, by which barrels were lowered, and
Tinker, mounting three rungs, pushed back a bolt, raised the heavy trap
a little, and peered about from under it.
"The street's clear," he said. "Come on!"
He slipped out on to the pavement, helped the clumsy financier through
the trap, caught his hand, and ran him across the street into a narrow
lane.
"There!" he said cheerfully. "That's the most difficult part of the
business! You're out of the hotel, and not a soul knows it!"
The financier's spirits brightened. Tinker had shown him his mettle,
and he began to have confidence. Besides, he had drunk a good deal of
the bottle of brandy. They hurried through the town by byways, and up
on to the cliffs. As they neared the palisade, and saw the great bulk
of the balloon looming through the starlight, the panting financier's
spirits sank: his teeth chattered, and his knees knocked together.
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