eb from his cheek. As the window
from which he had descended came into range he stared, loose-jawed. Then
be chuckled, as thoroughbred adventurers generally chuckle when they
find themselves at the bottom of the sack, the mouth of which has
simultaneously and automatically closed. Wasn't he the brainy old top?
Wasn't he Sherlock Holmes plus? Old fool, how the devil was he going to
get back through that window?

The drums of jeopardy--even to think of them was unlucky! Not to have
planned a retreat; to have climbed down a well and cut the bucket rope!
For in effect that was precisely what he had done. Only wings could
carry him up to that window. With sardonic humour he felt of his
shoulder blades. Not a feather in sight. Then he touched his ears. Ah,
here was something definite; they had grown several inches during the
past few hours. Monumental ass!

Of course there would be the drain. He could escape; but, dear Lord!
with enough noise to wake the dead. And that would write "Finis" to this
particular adventure. The quarry and the emeralds would be gone before
he could return with help. When everything had gone so smoothly--a jolt
like this!

A crowded day, and no mistake, as full of individual acts as a bill at
a vaudeville, trained-animal act last. Was it possible that he had
gone fiddle hunting that morning, netting an Amati worth ten thousand
dollars? Hawksley--no, he couldn't blame Hawksley. Still, if this young
Humpty-Dumpty hadn't been pushed off his wall he, Cutty, would not now
be marooned upon this roof 'twixt the devil and the deep blue sea. To
remain here until sunrise would be impossible; to slide down the drain
was equally impossible--that is, if he ever wanted to see Boris Karlov
again. The way of the transgressor was hard.

He sat on his heels and let his gaze rove four-square, permitting no
object to escape. He saw a clothes pole leaning against the chimney.
Evidently the former tenants had hung up their laundry here. There was
no clothesline, however. Caught, jolly well, blooming well caught! If
ever this got abroad he would be laughed out of the game. He wasn't
going to put one over on Uncle Sam after all. There might be some kind
of a fire escape on the front of the house. No harm in taking a look; it
would serve to pass the time.

There was the usual frontal parapet about three feet in height. Upturned
in the shadow lay a gift from the gods-a battered kitchen chair,
probably used to reach the