st," said the man, letting out more rope. "Or if
you're afraid, I'll come down the rope myself."

But Cutter was not afraid. It was the work of a moment to make a wide
bowline knot in the pliant Manilla cord. With an agility which in so
heavily built a frame surprised the dark man above, the doctor let
himself down as far as the tree; then seizing the insensible lady firmly
by the arm, and bracing himself on the roots of the cherry close to the
rock, so that he could stand for a moment without support from above, he
deftly slipped the rope twice round her waist with what are called
technically two half hitches, close to his own loop, in which he
intended to sit, clasping her body with his arms.

"Can you haul us up?" he shouted.

Slowly the rope was raised, with its heavy burden. The strong tourist
had got help from the terrified landlord, who had followed Cutter to the
balcony, but who was a stalwart Swabian, and not easily disconcerted. He
had rushed up-stairs, and was hauling away with all his might. In less
than a minute and a half Cutter was on a level with the balcony, and in
a few seconds more he had disengaged himself and the rescued lady from
the coils of the rope. It is not surprising that his first thought
should have been for her, and not for the quiet man with the pipe, who
had been the means of her escape. He bore Madame Patoff to her room, and
with the assistance of her maid set about reviving her as fast as
possible, though the perspiration streamed from his forehead, and he was
trembling with fright in every limb and joint.

The tourist wound up his rope, and took his pipe from his mouth, which
he had forgotten to do in the hurry of the moment. Then he slipped on an
old jacket, and descended the stairs, to inquire whether he could be of
any use, and whether the lady were alive or dead. He was a strongly
built man, with an ugly but not unkindly face, small gray eyes, and
black hair just beginning to grizzle at the temples. He was an extremely
quiet fellow, and the people of the inn remarked that he gave very
little trouble, though he had been at Weissenstein nearly a week. He had
told the landlord that he was going to Switzerland, but that he liked
roundabout ways, and was loitering along the road, as the season was not
yet far enough advanced for a certain ascent which he meditated. He had
nothing with him but a knapsack, a coil of rope, and a weather-beaten
ice-axe, besides one small book, which he