He opened the door leading into his little bedroom, and Leronde followed him.
Pacey banged down the tobacco-jar upon the dressing-table, and then threw open the window.
“Come and look out here,” he cried.
“But we have no time to spare, my friend.”
“Come and look out here,” roared Pacey.
As Leronde approached him wonderingly, Pacey seized him by the collar, and half dragged his head out.
“Look down there,” he said, pointing into the square pit-like place formed by the backs of the neighbouring houses, from the second floor, where they stood, to the basement; “you can’t jump down there?”
“My faith, no. It would be death.”
“And there is no way of climbing on to the roof.”
Leronde shook his head, and looked to see if his friend was mad.