bones, believed to be those of a man and a woman, were found in the
ruined edifice!"

He turned to Jill. "Here's the stage-door. Shall we creep sombrely
out into the night?"

The guardian of the stage-door was standing in the entrance of his
little hutch, plainly perplexed. He was a slow thinker and a man
whose life was ruled by routine: and the events of the evening had
left him uncertain how to act.

"Wot's all this about a fire?" he demanded.

Jill's friend stopped.

"A fire?" He looked at Jill. "Did you hear anything about a fire?"

"They all come bustin' past 'ere yelling there's a fire," persisted
the door-man.

"By George! Now I come to think of it, you're perfectly right! There
_is_ a fire! If you wait here a little longer, you'll get it in the
small of the back. Take the advice of an old friend who means you
well and vanish. In the inspired words of the lad we've just parted
from, 'op it!"

The stage-door man turned this over in his mind for a space.

"But I'm supposed to stay 'ere till eleven-thirty and lock up!" he
said. "That's what I'm supposed to do. Stay 'ere till eleven-thirty