"Come," he said. "There must be some way out of this."
CHAPTER XIX
A SAMARITAN
Beyond them at one side was another roof, and beyond it again, through the driving storm they could see the chimneys of others. Rowland slid down to the lower level. Tanya handed him the suitcase and in a moment in obedience to his orders she had swung herself over the edge of the eaves and into his arms.
But their situation was precarious for the new roof had a deeper pitch and the tiles were loose, but they climbed to its peak, along which they made their way on their hands and knees, Rowland leading and dragging their precious booty toward a group of chimneys fifty or sixty feet beyond, a defensible position should their means of escape be discovered. They reached it at last, their clothes and fingers torn, and halted a moment here, while Rowland reloaded his automatic while he watched the dim profile of the house above them.
"It was horrible--I can never forget----," Tanya was whispering. "Like rats in a trap. That dreadful man!"
"I shot. There was nothing else to do. But I could swear I missed him--the uncertain light--the crowd all about----"
"But he fell--I saw him----"
"Yes," dubiously, "but they say he has as many lives as a cat. Sh!" he whispered suddenly.
They crouched lower in the darkness, while Rowland peered up at the dim shapes along the roof of the building from which they had descended. Two soldiers--for he could see the rifles in their hands--but they looked down upon the sloping roof, exchanged a few words and then, evidently changing their minds, disappeared again. The roar of the storm had now drowned all other sounds, for the shooting had ceased, but a dull glow now appeared defining the window from which they had escaped. The glow was too red for lamp light, and then a smell of smoke was borne down toward them upon the storm. Fire! Rowland pointed and Tanya saw.