nd pistol shots.

"This isn't a fight," he cried, "it's a battle!"

With Miss Dale at his side, he ran into the front room, and, raising the
blind, appeared at the window. And instantly, as at the other end of the
house, there was, at sight of the woman's figure, a tumult of cries, a
shout of warning, and a great roar of welcome. From beneath them a man
ran into the deserted street, and in the glare of the gas-lamp Ford saw
his white, upturned face. He was without a hat and his head was circled
by a bandage. But Ford recognized Cuthbert. "That's Ford!" he cried,
pointing. "And the girl's with him!" He turned to a group of men
crouching in the doorway of the next house to the one in which Ford was
imprisoned. "The girl's alive!" he shouted.

"The girl's alive!" The words were caught up and flung from window to
window, from house-top to house-top, with savage, jubilant cheers. Ford
pushed Miss Dale forward.

"Let them see you," he said, "and you will never see a stranger sight."

Below them, Sowell Street, glistening with rain and snow, lay empty, but
at either end of it, held back by an army of police, were black masses
of men, and beyond them more men packed upon the tops of taxicabs and
hansoms, stretching as far as the street-lamps showed, and on the roofs
shadowy forms crept cautiously from chimney to chimney; and in the
windows of darkened rooms opposite, from behind barricades of mattresses
and upturned tables, rifles appeared stealthily, to be lost in a sudden
flash of flame. And with these flashes were others that came from
windows and roofs with the report of a bursting bomb, and that, on the
instant, turned night into day, and then left the darkness more dark.

Ford gave a cry of delight.

"They're taking flash-light photographs," he cried jubilantly. "Well
done, you Pressmen!" The instinct of the reporter became compelling.
"If they're alive to develop those photographs to-night," he exclaimed
eagerly, "Cuthbert will send them by special messenger, in time to catch
the MAURETANIA and the REPUBLIC will have them by Sunday. I mayn't be
alive to see them," he added regretfully, "but what a feature for the
Sunday supplement!"

As the eyes of the two prisoners became accustomed to the darkness, they
saw that the street was not, as at first they had supposed, entirely
empty. Directly below them in the gutter, where to approach it was to
invite instant death from Prothero's pistol, lay the dead body of a
pol