'Come through into my room,' I said. 'The drop on to the belvedere isn't so great there.'
He followed me, trailing a bundle of hastily gathered clothes in his arms. He had slung his small camera round his neck. We pitched everything out of the window. I tossed my typewriter out and saw it landed safely in soft snow. Then I helped Joe through the window. It was a close thing. His heavy bulk could only just squeeze through. When he was half-way through, he suddenly looked at me. 'Where's Engles?' he asked. He had sobered up a lot.
'He's all right,' I said. 'He's gone off with Keramikos.'
'And the others?'
'I think Mayne is trapped,' I said. 'But he should be able to make it through the window.'
'Uh. Reminds me of the things they used to make us do on Sports Day — you know, under the tarpaulin, through the wire and along the sewage piping. Thank God I haven't got to eat an apple on the end of a string at the finish.'
'No, but you've got to put your clothes on out there in the snow,' I said. 'That should be funny enough for you.'
'My God!' he said. 'My cameras!'
'Where are they?'
'Out the back. I should be able to get to them all right.' But the thought seemed to spur him on and a moment later, puffing and blowing, he disappeared from sight. I leaned out of the window and saw the huge blue bulk of his pyjamas shamble off through the snow in search of his clothes. Then I, too, got my legs through that window. Though the door was shut, the room was getting very hot and smoke was coiling in around the edges of the door in grey wisps.