They stopped at the window where Tom was supposed to appear, but no one was there.

‘Gosh,’ said Doug. ‘I hope he didn’t get locked in the men’s room.’

‘They never lock the men’s room,’ said Charlie. ‘He’ll be here.’

And sure enough, all of a sudden, there was Tom behind the glass pane, waving to them and opening and shutting his mouth, but they couldn’t hear what he was saying.

At long last he raised the window and the smell of the courthouse rushed out into the night around them.

‘Get in,’ commanded Tom.

‘We are,’ said Doug, angrily.

One by one the boys crawled inside the courthouse and snuck along the hallways till they reached the clock machinery door.

‘I bet you,’ said Tom, ‘this darned door’s locked, too.’

‘No bets,’ said Doug, and rattled the doorknob. ‘Good grief! Tom, I hate to say it, but you’re right. Has anybody got a firecracker?’

Suddenly six hands reached into six dungaree pockets and just as suddenly reappeared with three four–inchers and a few five–inch crackers.

‘It’s no good,’ said Tom, ‘unless someone has matches.’

More hands reached out with matches in each.

Doug stared at the door.

‘How can we fix the crackers so they’ll really do some good when they go off?’

‘Glue,’ said Tom.

Doug shook his head, scowling.

‘Yeah, glue, right,’ he said. ‘Does anyone just happen to have any glue on them?’

A single hand reached out on the air. It was Pete’s.

‘Here’s some Bulldog glue,’ he said. ‘Bought it for my airplane models and because I like the great picture of the bulldog on the label.’

‘Let’s give it a try.’

Doug applied glue along the length of one of the five–inchers and pressed it against the outside of the machinery room door.

‘Stand back,’ he said, and struck a match.

With his mob back in the shadows and his hands over his ears, Doug waited for the cracker to go off. The orange flame sizzled and zipped along the fuse.

There was a beautiful explosion.

For a long moment they all stared at the door in disappointment and then, very slowly, it drifted open.

‘I was right,’ said Tom.

‘Why don’t you just shut up,’ said Doug. ‘C’mon.’

He pulled the door and it opened wide.

There was a sound below.

‘Who’s there?’ a voice cried from deep down in the courthouse.

‘Ohmigosh,’ whispered Tom. ‘I bet that’s the janitor.’

‘Who’s up there?’ the voice cried again.

‘Quick!’ said Doug, leading his army through the door.

And now, at last, they were inside the clock.