''Murder! Help! Help! Murder!''\\
At that we all, save Mrs Sucksby and Maud, sprang back. John made for the shop.—''Too late!'' said Mr Ibbs. ''Too late.'' He held up his hand. John stood and listened. There had come a swirl of hot wind from the open shop-door and it carried with it what I thought at first was the echo of Charles''s cry; then the sound grew stronger, and I understood it was an answering shout, perhaps from the window of a house nearby. In a second it was joined by another. Then it was joined by this—the worst sound of all, to us—the sound of a rattle, rising and falling on the gusting wind; and drawing nearer.
''The blues!'' said John. He turned, and came to Dainty. ''Dainty,
run!'' he said. She stood for a second, then went—the back way__
tearing the bolts from their cradles.—''Go on!'' he said, when she looked back. But he did not go with her. Instead, he went to Gentleman''s side.
''We might take him,'' he said to Mrs Sucksby. He looked at me, and then at Maud. ''We might take him between us, if we are quick.''
Mrs Sucksby shook her head. Gentleman''s own head hung low upon his breast. The blood still bubbled at his lip; burst, and bubbled again.
''Save