went in safety and out of that furnace into the street. I placed her in the arms of a fireman, and turned and gazed up at the doomed building. Should I go back for him? Yes. Should I go back for him? No. Should I tell a fireman? Yes. Should I tell a fireman? No. Never did I hate him as I did then. I turned to look for her. They had taken her away, probably to some neighbour's house. I made my way through the crowd and walked along the street. I walked fast; I must get away from the picture of him helpless, with his head resting on the sill.

He had no right to live, the world would be better for his death. I was doing the world a kindness. I was bringing to her a blessing she would thank me for. He would never try to strike her again. Damn him! I walked faster, but the pic

ture kept pace. Suddenly God laid His hand upon my shoulder and I turned and ran ran as I never ran before, back, back to the hotel, back to the room where he lay awaiting me, and only me, for no one else should save him. Once more I plunged through the crowd, dodging two firemen who tried to stop me. The elevator would still run. I gave another yell of delight as it mounted, but my breath scorched me. Whatsoever I touched blistered my hands. I found him on his hands and knees just returning to consciousness; trying to raise himself. I helped him; for a moment he stood dazed, then the light broke into his mind as it does into a darkened room when the shutters are thrown open. "Come this instant," I cried. "We have not a moment to lose." Just then we heard a tremendous crash that shook the tottering

walls of the whole house. Oh, yes! I knew what had happened, the elevator had dropped to the bottom of the well; something had burned out and it had fallen. I rushed to see and found it so. I could hardly find my way back through smoke. When I entered and closed the door he was standing with his hands behind his back in the middle of the room.

"Elevator gone?" he inquired, with seeming indifference.

"Yes."

"Prisoners here?"

"Yes."

"Death?"

Certain," I answered.

"Well," he continued, "I'm rather curious to see how you will take it. How do you propose to be cooked, roasted or

broiled? You're a very dry man, I think you'll need a sauce."

I did not answer, but went to the window and looked down; out of every window below us burst those vanishing but recurrent lances of flame. When the crowd saw me, a mighty roar went up; every hand was upraised and pointing. It looked as if some one were taking the ayes and noes of a mighty congress.

"Don't jump," some one bawled; "ladders are coming."

"Don't jump!" snarled B. "The idiot! what does he think we are, parachutes?"

I looked down again; some were fixing the ladders, but I knew the time was too short for us to be saved, and some were arranging an additional hose. A woman stepped forward to get a better view and stepped on the hose near a small rent; the

pressure from the hydrant was turned on suddenly, the rent gaped and the water inflated her frock so that for a moment she looked like an old-fashioned pincushion of the days when crinolines were the mode. The crowd went into convulsions of laughter. The woman disappeared and a little. boy ran forward and slaked an imaginary thirst from the escaping water. I turned to B. again. He was groping through the smoke for something. He came toward me with his cigarette-case in his hand and some matches.

Funny," he remarked. "I never can find a match when I need one, and now that I am almost surrounded by fire they are the first things I put my hand on. Have a puff?" I took one; I proposed also to be as cool as the circumstances would permit. With a little laugh he said: