out, extolling the absorbing and thrilling character of the performance
down-stairs, with the extravagant epithets of the circus posters,
laughing all the while. He urged them on when they lingered, and
restrained them when they came too fast, addressing one and another with
jocularity, laying his hands on some and pushing them on with assumed
playfulness, keeping up the fire of raillery with desperate resistance.
When screams were heard now and then from below, he made it appear to be
only excited feminine merriment, directing attention to it, and calling
out to those yet to come:

"You hear them? Oh, yes; you'll scream, too, when you see it!"

All the time, though his faculties were sufficiently strained by the
effort he was making, he was watching Agnes Maine, who stood opposite,
doing nothing, but looking her calm, pale self, and now and then smiling
slightly at his extravagant humor. And he thought admiringly that her
simple quiet did more to keep up the illusion than all his labored and
violent simulation.

It seemed as if there never would be an end to the stream of leisurely
people who answered his banter with laugh and joke. But finally the last
of them were fairly on the stair, and he turned to Agnes Maine with a
suddenly transformed face.

"Now--be quick!" he called.

But she gave a low cry, looking away toward the farther end, where she
caught sight of a young couple still lingering. She ran toward them,
calling to them to hurry, and as they did not understand, she took hold
of the girl, and made her run. Windham had followed her, and the four