e are. You're perfectly certain those who live in Scarborough
Squares don't make a success of life. Do you think we do?"

Again Selwyn stopped, stared at me, but before he could answer a
queer, curdling, smothered sound reached us faintly from the street
below. A cry low, yet clear and anguished, followed. Then a fall
and hurrying footsteps, and then silence. Selwyn sprang to the
window and opened it.

"My God!" he said. His face was white. "What was that?"

CHAPTER V

I was out of the door before Selwyn had left the window. Quickly he
followed me, however, and on the front porch, where Mrs. Mundy was
already standing, we stood for a half-moment, looking up and down the
street.

The small arc of light made by the corner gaslamp lessened but little
the darkness of the seemingly deserted street, and for a while we
could distinguish nothing save the shadows cast by the gaunt trees of
the Square. Then I saw Selwyn start.

"Go inside." He was his steady self again. "It is too cold out
here. I think some one has been hurt. Go in."

I ran in Mrs. Mundy's room and to her wardrobe. Getting a coat and
an old cape, I threw the latter over my shoulders, and, coming back
to the porch, went down its steps and across the street to where Mrs.
Mundy and Selwyn were bending over a young woman who stirred as they
came up.

"Put this on." I threw the coat to Mrs. Mundy. "Who is it?"

"I don't know." Mrs. Mundy knelt on the ground. "Are you hurt?" she
asked. "There--that's better." With skilful movement she helped the
girl, who seemed dazed, to steady herself. As the latter sat up she
put her hand to her face and brushed back her hair.

"Where am I? Has he gone?" Her face was dropped in her hands. "If
he just would kill me and end it--end it!"

"Who hurt you?" Selwyn's voice was the quiet one that was ever his
when something was to be done, and, leaning over her, he took the
girl by the arm and lifted her to her feet. "Can you tell what has
happened?" He looked at Mrs. Mundy. "It's too cold out here for her
to stand--she's pretty faint still."

"Bring her over to me." Mrs. Mundy put her coat around the shivering
girl, and, slipping her hand through one arm, motioned Selwyn to take
hold of the other. "Run ahead," she nodded to me, "and fix up a dose
of that aromatic spirits of ammonia what's on the second shelf of the
closet in my bedroom. And pull the couch up to the fire."

Dazedly, and