“Yes—fast to an iron staple that supports the chimney. Get out, quick! Quick!”
“Go down first—go down!” I shouted up.
“I tell you to get out!” the girl’s voice cried. This was no time for courtesies. The girl said we must go, and so...
I was pulled back violently from the window and flung on to the floor. A man was clutching at the rope. It was Paulton. At the same instant a shout of laughter sounded in the room. Scrambling to my feet, I saw Faulkner laughing. Had the man any nerves at all? Did he know what fear meant?
“Paulton did that,” he exclaimed. “I think he’s the limit. Look at him sliding down—the cur! Who is the girl above?”
“I don’t know, and don’t care!” I cried. “Do for the love of Heaven, follow down. I’m suffocating. The fire will be on us in an instant.”
“And leave the girl!” he said in a tone of reproach and surprise. “You can’t mean it, Ashton.”
“She won’t go first—she said so.”
“Won’t she?”
He went over to the window, leaned out as I had done, and looked up as best he could.