Antony Dart glanced round the room. It was a strange place. But something was here. Magic, was it? Frenzy—dreams—what?
He heard from below a sudden murmur and crying out in the street. Miss Montaubyn heard it and stopped in her sewing, holding her needle and thread extended.
Glad heard it and sprang to her feet.
"Somethin's 'appened," she cried out. "Someone's 'urt."
She was out of the room in a breath's space. She stood outside listening a few seconds and darted back to the open door, speaking through it. They could hear below commotion, exclamations, the wail of a child.
"Somethin's 'appened to Bet!" she cried out again. "I can 'ear the child."
She was gone and flying down the staircase; Antony Dart and Miss Montaubyn rose together. The tumult was increasing; people were running about in the court, and it was plain a crowd was forming by the magic which calls up crowds as from nowhere about the door. The child's screams rose shrill above the noise. It was no small thing which had occurred.
"I must go," said Miss Montaubyn, limping away from her table. "P'raps I can 'elp. P'raps you can 'elp, too," as he followed her.
They were met by Glad at the threshold. She had shot back to them, panting.
"She was blind drunk," she said, "an' she went out to get more. She tried to cross the street an' fell under a car She'll be dead in five minits. I'm goin' for the biby."