"I should say I did! It was as good as a circus. But you must go to bed. Good night."
As they went out into the garden the next night, Astro showed Valeska a nickeled brass cylinder he had concealed in his inside pocket.
"Here's what an automobilist calls an oil gun," he explained. "It works like a large syringe, and is loaded with blue paint. I might also mention that the lightning-rod running up and down the house wall side of those windows is already painted bright blue. If I don't succeed in shooting our extremely lively little friend the spook with this gun, I expect the lightning-rod to streak her up with blue stripes sufficient for identification."
Valeska gazed at the moonlit house in wonder. "The lightning-rod!" she exclaimed. "It isn't possible for any one to climb up there! Do you mean to say—"
"Wait, and you'll see some of the prettiest ground and lofty tumbling outside of vaudeville," was his reply.
"But it runs up beside Genevieve's window! It isn't possible for that girl to climb down from there into the garden."
"It also runs beside Miss Fanshawe's window. It may be possible for her. I assure you, she's an athlete."
"But how could any human being get on the roof so quickly?"
"If you'll go round there, you'll see. Once you climb the north wall, you can almost reach the first balcony. Up the column to the second is easy enough.
