rim pressed the window.
The downward view was unimpeded, all clear; only, things moved so
slowly. However, a little at a time, the second person in the car came
emerging into the sunshine.

And Cally's heart lifted with an appalling wrench as she saw that it was
her father.

There had been an accident at the Works: that was clear in one
eye-sweep. Her father had been hurt. He was bareheaded; a long splotch
ran up his cheek, into his hair. He was dragging over the sidewalk,
leaning heavily upon Chas's arm. One of his own arms hung unnaturally
still at his side. More horrible than any of these things was his face,
so ghastly green in the light.

And in the watcher at the window, life shocked instantly to death. For
in the flash in which she saw her father's face, she knew. No need of
speech; no more news to break. Had she not felt that something terrible
would happen at the Works some day? There had happened a thing more
terrible than all her nightmares had devised....

She did not remember going downstairs at all. But she must have gone
down very fast, for when she opened the door the two men were just
stepping into the vestibule, Chas's hand reaching out toward
the bell....

One look went between her and papa. Did he see death in her face?

"You heard ..." he said, standing there, his voice so curious. And she
could have screamed for that look in his eyes.

"No," said Cally. Yet surely she had heard.

He was limping through the door toward her; dirt on his clothes; dark
stains on his fine snowy waistcoat. And then his arm was hard round her
neck; papa's head buried upon her breast, like a sorry boy's.

"My poor little girl."

So there had been a glimmer within, after all. It went out, with a
mortal throe. All was black.

But surely this was quite, quite unreal; but one more horror of the
night, the last and the worst. Ah, surely, surely, she had but to make
one great effort to find herself sitting up in the dark; trembling,
but alive.

"How badly are you hurt?"

"Nothing.... Arm's broke.... No one else."

Then they were standing in the wide dim hall. The door was shut, and she
was holding by the knob. And she heard a voice, so small, so
strangely calm.

"How did it happen, papa?"

Papa had his sound arm raised, his hand rubbing vaguely at his lips.
But it was not his own pain and shock that had bleached those lips
so white.

"Floor crashed in--without warning ... broke through. He'd made a
sugge