A Damsel in Distress

It was the worst thing he could have done. George had almost made

up his mind to take a chance when the sheet was snatched from his

grasp as if it had been some live thing deliberately eluding his

clutch. The thought of what would have happened had this occurred

when he was in mid-air caused him to break out in a cold

perspiration. He retired a pace and perched himself on the rail of

the balcony.

"Psst!" said Albert.

"It's no good saying, 'Psst!'" rejoined George in an annoyed

undertone. "I could say 'Psst!' Any fool could say 'Psst!'"

Albert, he considered, in leaning out of the window and saying

"Psst!" was merely touching the fringe of the subject.

It is probable that he would have remained seated on the balcony

rail regarding the sheet with cold aversion, indefinitely, had not

his hand been forced by the man Plummer. Plummer, during these last

minutes, had shot his bolt. He had said everything that a man could

say, much of it twice over; and now he was through. All was ended.

The verdict was in. No wedding-bells for Plummer.

"I think," said Plummer gloomily, and the words smote on George's

ear like a knell, "I think I'd like a little air."

George leaped from his rail like a hunted grasshopper. If Plummer

was looking for air, it meant that he was going to come out on the

balcony. There was only one thing to be done. It probably meant the

abrupt conclusion of a promising career, but he could hesitate no

longer.

George grasped the sheet--it felt like a rope of cobwebs--and swung

himself out.

Maud looked out on to the balcony. Her heart, which had stood still

when the rejected one opened the window and stepped forth to commune

with the soothing stars, beat again. There was no one there, only

emptiness and Plummer.

"This," said Plummer sombrely, gazing over the rail into the

darkness, "is the place where that fellow what's-his-name jumped

off in the reign of thingummy, isn't it?"

Maud understood now, and a thrill of the purest admiration for

George's heroism swept over her. So rather than compromise her, he

had done Leonard's leap! How splendid of him! If George, now sitting

on Reggie Byng's bed taking a rueful census of the bits of skin

remaining on his hands and knees after his climb, could have read

her thoughts, he would have felt well rewarded for his abrasions.

"I've a jolly good mind," said Plummer, "to do it myself!" He

uttered a short, mirthless laugh. "Well, anyway," he said

recklessly, "I'll jolly well go downstairs and have a

brandy-and-soda!"