or three feet of the roof, and dropped safely
upon it. Then he stood up, facing her just below, braced himself with
one foot on each side of the ridge, and told her to loosen her hold and
let herself fall forward. She did so, and he caught her in his arms as
she fell.

It was a struggle for a minute to keep his balance; and whether in the
involuntary stress of the effort, or by an instinctive impulse,
conscious or otherwise, he clasped her close for a moment, till her face
touched his own. Then he put her down, and they sat on the ridge near
each other, flushed, and short of breath. Below, on the lawn, a throng
of people looked up at them, some motionless, some gesticulating, and
some shouting in dumb show, their voices drowned in the fierce roar and
crackling that raged beneath the roof and shut in the two above it in a
kind of visible privacy. They were still a while; then Agnes asked: "Can
we do anything more?"

"No," he answered, "nothing but wait."

Both saw that men were running for ladders and ropes. Presently he asked
quietly:

"Why did you come to me?"

She looked up at him for a moment, then answered:

"I suppose I thought you would know what to do."

"Thank you," he said, in a grave, low voice.

After a little the tower blazed out above them, and they moved along the
ridge till stopped by a chimney, against which he made her lean. Then
they sat still again. The flames rose above the eaves on one side, and
flared higher and hotter. Soon they grew scorching, and Agnes said, with
quickened breathing:

"We couldn't stay here long."

He looked at her, and the side of her face toward the fire glowed bright
red. He took off his coat, moved close to her, and held it up between
their faces and the flames; and they sat together so, breathing audibly,
but not speaking, till the head of a ladder rose suddenly above the
eaves, and a minute later the head and shoulders of Jeffrey Coleman. He
flung a rope to Windham, who in another minute had let Miss Maine slip
down by it to the ladder; then, throwing a noose of it over the chimney,
he slid down himself to the eaves, and so to the ground.

[Illustration: "AGNES SAID, WITH QUICKENED BREATHING, 'WE COULDN'T STAY
HERE LONG.'"]

Miss Maine stood waiting for him, pale and trembling now, but said
nothing. Mary Mandison was with her; she had made no scene, and made
none now.

But there were sharper eyes than Mary's. That night, as Windham strolled
on the lawn a