abled him to ascend from the other. Biffen planted the lowest rung
very carefully on the ridge of the roof, climbed as lightly as possible,
got a footing between two pots; the ladder was then pulled over, and
both men descended in safety.

'Have you seen a coat lying about here?' was Biffen's first question. 'I
threw mine over.'

'What did you do that for?'

'There are some valuable papers in the pockets.'

They searched in vain; on neither side of the roof was the coat
discoverable.

'You must have pitched it into the street,' said the man.

This was a terrible blow; Biffen forgot his rescue from destruction
in lament for the loss of his manuscript. He would have pursued the
fruitless search, but his companion, who feared that the fire might
spread to adjoining houses, insisted on his passing through the
trap-door and descending the stairs.'If the coat fell into the street,'
Biffen said, when they were down on the ground floor, 'of course it's
lost; it would be stolen at once. But may not it have fallen into your
back yard?'

He was standing in the midst of a cluster of alarmed people, who stared
at him in astonishment, for the reek through which he had fought his way
had given him the aspect of a sweep. His suggestion prompted someone to
run into the yard, with the result that a muddy bundle was brought in
and exhibited to him.

'Is this your coat, Mister?'

'Heaven be thanked! That's it! There are valuable papers in the
pockets.'

He unrolled the garment, felt to make sure that 'Mr Bailey' was safe,
and finally put it on.

'Will anyone here let me sit down in a room and give me a drink of
water?' he asked, feeling now as if he must drop with exhaustion.

The man who had rescued him performed this further kindness, and for
half an hour, whilst tumult indescribable raged about him, Biffen sat
recovering his strength. By that time the firemen were hard at work, but
one floor of the burning house had already fallen through, and it was
probable that nothing but the shell would be saved. After giving a full
account of himself to the people among whom he had come, Harold declared
his intention of departing; his need of repose was imperative, and he
could not hope for it in this proximity to the fire. As he had no money,
his only course was to inquire for a room at some house in the immediate
neighbourhood, where the people would receive him in a charitable
spirit.

With the aid of the police he passed to w