Rowland lodged the suit-case in the angle by the chimney and turned, weapon in hand, peering into the darkness. The glow of the sparks and flame from the burning building now shed a faint illumination along the wet roofs and he made out a figure crawling toward them. He waited a moment until the figure reached the gable of the house on which they sat when he lowered his automatic and frowned in uncertainty.
"I can't make out----" he whispered. And then in a guarded tone, "Who's there?"
There was a moment's pause and then a faint voice came to them--a woman's voice.
"Philippe!"
With an exclamation, Rowland slipped the weapon in his pocket and crawled back along the roof.
"Philippe--thank God!" And then faintly, "You must help me. I--I am--hurt----"
"Zoya!"
He helped her up and along the roof while she clung to him in weakness and in terror, but he managed to reach the safety of the chimneys, where Tanya helped him support her.
"You are wounded?" he whispered.
"I saw you go. I tried to follow. Someone shot at me in the dark. I fell.... Then I knew that I--I must go on and--and when the soldiers went--I crept--up--the roof--I don't know how. In the glow of the fire I saw you and--and came. But I am so dizzy----"