we are. You're perfectly certain those who live in Scarborough
Squares don't make a success of life. Do you think we do?"

Again Selwyn stopped, stared at me, but before he could answer a
queer, curdling, smothered sound reached us faintly from the street
below. A cry low, yet clear and anguished, followed. Then a fall
and hurrying footsteps, and then silence. Selwyn sprang to the
window and opened it.

"My God!" he said. His face was white. "What was that?"




CHAPTER V

I was out of the door before Selwyn had left the window. Quickly he
followed me, however, and on the front porch, where Mrs. Mundy was
already standing, we stood for a half-moment, looking up and down the
street.

The small arc of light made by the corner gaslamp lessened but little
the darkness of the seemingly deserted street, and for a while we
could distinguish nothing save the shadows cast by the gaunt trees of
the Square. Then I saw Selwyn start.

"Go inside." He was his steady self again. "It is too cold out
here. I think some one has been hurt. Go in."

I ran in Mrs. Mundy's room and to her wardrobe. Getting a coat and