e struck one, and his
companions in the swaying cage now saw that a tremendous rocket
was hung to the peak of the other crane. He lighted the fuse....
An instant of deathly suspense!... And then with a terrific and a
shattering bang and splutter the rocket shot towards the kingdom
of heaven and there burst into a vast dome of red blossoms which,
irradiating a square mile of roofs, descended slowly and softly on the
West End like a benediction.

"You always want crimson, don't you, Sir John?" said Edward Henry,
and the easy cheeriness of his voice gradually tranquillized the
alarm natural to two very earthly men who for the first time found
themselves suspended insecurely over a gulf.

"I have seen nothing so impressive since the Russian Ballet," murmured
Mr. Alloyd, recovering.

"You ought to go to Siberia, Alloyd," said Edward Henry.

Sir John Pilgrim, pretending now to be extremely brave, suddenly
turned on Edward Henry and in a convulsive grasp seized his hand.

"My friend," he said hoarsely, "a thought has just occurred to me. You
and I are the two most remarkable men in London!" He glanced up as the
cage trembled. "How thin that steel rope seems!"

The cage slowly descended, with many twists.

Edward Henry said not a word. He was too deeply moved by his own
triumph to be able to speak.

"Who else but me," he reflected, exultant, "could have managed this
affair as I've managed it? Did anyone else ever take Sir John Pilgrim
up into the sky like a load of bricks, and frighten his life out of
him?"

As the cage approached the platforms of the first story he saw two
people waiting there; one he recognized as the faithful, harmless
Marrier; the other was a woman.

"Someone here wants you urgently, Mr. Machin!" cried Marrier.

"By Jove!" exclaimed Alloyd under his breath. "What a beautiful
figure! No girl as attractive as that ever wanted _me_ urgently! Some
folks do have luck!"

The woman had moved a little away when the cage landed. Edward Henry
followed her along the planking.

It was Elsie April.

"I thought you were ill in bed," he breathed, astounded.

Her answering voice reached him, scarcely audible:

"I'm only hoarse. My Cousin Rose has arrived to-night in secret at
Tilbury by the _Minnetonka_."

"The _Minnetonka_!" he muttered. Staggering coincidence! Mystic
heralding of misfortune!

"I was sent for," the pale ghost of a delicate voice continued. "She's
broken, ruined; no courage left. A