"Watch your hand," I cautioned. Larry took off his coat and wrapped his hand and the brick in it. I gazed behind us. The street was still empty. The slight commotion we had made had attracted no attention. The girl cried out again as Larry smashed the pane. "Easy," I called to her. "Take it easy. We won't hurt you." The splintering glass fell inward, and Larry pounded around the casement until it was all clear. The rectangular opening was fairly large. We could see a dim basement room of dilapidated furniture: a door opening into a back room; the girl; nearby, a white shape watching us. There seemed no one else. "Come on," I said. "You can get out here." But she backed away. I was half in the window so I swung my legs over the sill. Larry came after me, and together we advanced on the girl, who shrank before us. Then suddenly she ran to meet us, and I had the sudden feeling that she was not insane. Her fear of us was overshadowed by her terror at something else in this dark, deserted house. The terror communicated itself to Larry and me. Something eery, here. "Come on," Larry muttered. "Let's get her out of here." * * * * * I had indeed no desire to investigate anything further. The girl let us help her through the window. I stood in the entryway holding her arms. Her dress was of billowing white satin with a single red rose at the breast; her snowy arms and shoulders were bare; white hair was piled high on her small head. Her face, still terrified, showed parted red lips; a little round black beauty patch adorned one of her powdered cheeks. The thought flashed to me that this was a girl in a fancy dress costume. This was a white wig she was wearing! I stood with the girl in the entryway, at a loss what to do. I held her soft warm arms; the perfume of her enveloped me. "What do you want us to do with you?" I demanded softly. McGuire, the policeman on the block, might at any moment pass. "We might get arrested! What's the matter with you? Can't you explain? Are you hurt?" She was staring as though I were a ghost, or some strange animal. "Oh, take me away from this place! I will talk--though I do not know what to say--" Demented or sane, I had no desire to have her fall into the clutches of the police. Nor could we very well take her to our apartment. But there was my friend Dr. Alten, alienist, who lived within a mile of here. "We'll take her to Alten's," I said to Larry, "and find out what this means. She isn't crazy." A sudden wild emotion swept me, then. Whatever this mystery, more than anything in the world I did not want the girl to be insane! Larry said, "There was a taxi down the street." * * * * *