Fairly pouncing upon Prescott, Dave half raised that body, then dragged it to the window.
"Pull!" Darrin yelled up to Tom Reade, peering over the roof's edge.
Over the roar of the fire Dave's voice did not carry well, but his gesture was seen.
Reade gave the command, and the hoisting commenced, while Dave, standing at his post, though choking, and his brain reeling, swung Dick's feet clear of the sill.
Then the body began to go up quickly, while the crowd watched in greater awe than ever.
Dave Darrin leaped out upon the sill, holding a handkerchief over his mouth and nostrils in order to protect his lungs as much as possible.
With the other hand Dave clutched at the window frame, for he had a fearful dread, now that he would lose his hold, his footing and plunge headlong into the street.
Dick's body disappeared over the roof edge.
After what seemed like a short age, but what was only a few moments,
Reade again showed his face, dangling the noose in his hand.
Then he let it fall until it hung close to Darrin.