never seen no one else, so he dropped off, kind of givin' himself a
shove out from the eaves, and fetched up against White's woodshed. He
was pantin' like he'd run a mile, and I heard him say in a whisper, 'Oh,
my God!'--just like that,--'Oh, my God!'" The handy-man paused with this
grotesque mimicry of terror.

"And then?" prompted Moxlow, in the breathless silence.

"And then he took off up the alley as if all hell was whoopin' after
him!"

Again Montgomery's ragged cap served him in lieu of a handkerchief, and
as he swabbed his blotched and purple face he shot a swift furtive
glance in Gilmore's direction. So far he had told only the truth, but he
was living in terror of Moxlow's next question.

"Can you describe the man who crossed the roof,--for instance, how was
he dressed?" said Moxlow, with slow deliberation.

"He had on a derby hat and a dark overcoat," answered Montgomery after a
moment's pause.

He was speaking for Gilmore now, and his grimy lists closed convulsively
about the arms of his chair.

"Did you see his face?" asked Moxlow.

"Yes--" the monosyllable was spoken unwillingly, but with a kind of
dogged resolution.