"He stayed to take care of Sylvia, I suppose."
A bomb came crashing through the roof of a house at the end of the alley and burst in the basement, showering the street with slate and plaster. A second struck a chimney and plunged into the garden, followed by an avalanche of bricks, and another exploded with a deafening report in the next street.
They hurried along the passage to the steps which led to the cellar. Here again Braith stopped.
"Don't you think I had better run up to see if Jack and Sylvia are well entrenched? I can get back before dark."
"No. Go in and find Colette, and I'll go."
"No, no, let me go, there's no danger."
"I know it," replied West calmly; and, dragging Braith into the alley, pointed to the cellar steps. The iron door was barred.
"Colette! Colette!" he called. The door swung inward, and the girl sprang up the stairs to meet them. At that instant, Braith, glancing behind him, gave a startled cry, and pushing the two before him into the cellar, jumped down after them and slammed the iron door. A few seconds later a heavy jar from the outside shook the hinges.
"They are here," muttered West, very pale.
"That door," observed Colette calmly, "will hold for ever."