rick. A long shrill sigh broke from the crowd.

Then the male wiseheads came together, and, desperate to snap the chord
of impotent suspense, mooted and rejected plan after plan that their sane
judgment knew from the first to be impracticable.

At the outset it was plainly impossible for a soul to approach the ruins.
Apart from the almost certain mangling such a venture would entail upon
the explorer, the least stirring or shifting of the great heap of rubbish
flung about the base of the wall would certainly risk the immediate
collapse of the latter.

Success, it was evident, must come, if at all, from a distance--but how?

One suggested slinging a rope from window to window of adjacent houses
across the path of the broken chimney-stack--a good method of rescue had
circumstances lent themselves to it. They did not. On the ruin side a
wide space intervened; on the other, the sister house to that which had
fallen, and which was also included in the order of demolition, was
itself affected by the loss of its support, and leaned in a sinister
manner, its party walls bulged and rent towards the scene of devastation.

Nothing short of the great Roc itself could, it seemed, snatch the poor
fellow from his death perch.

There came suddenly an ominous silence. Then strode out in front of his
fellows--and he moved so close to the ruin that the women whimpered and
held one another--an old, rough-bearded chap in stained corduroy.

"Whart's he gone to do?" gasped the sibilant voices.

He hollowed his hands to his mouth, he cleared his hoarse throat two or
three times. Only a little trailing screech came from it at first. Then
he cursed his weakness, and pulled himself together.

"Jark! Jark Curtus!" he hailed, in an explosive voice.

"Hullo!"

The weak, small response floated down.

"My lard! my poor lard! we've thought oor best, arnd we can do nothun
fower 'ee."

Instantly a shrill protest of horror went up from the women. This was not
what they had expected.

"What! leave the mis'rable boy to his fate!"

There followed a storm of hisses from them--absolutely unreasonable, of
course. The old fellow turned to retire, with hanging head.

At the moment a girl, flushed, blowzed, breathless, broke through the
skirt of the mob and barred his retreat.

"Oh!" she panted, shaking her jet-black noddle at him--"here's a parcel
o' gor-crows for discussin' help to a Christian marn! What! a score o'
wiselings, and not one to