By this time I was so bewildered that I think I should have fallen in with any suggestion, however ludicrous. I remember some vague wonder passing through my mind as to what the next-door people would think if they saw us swarming down the front of the house; but with the door threatening to yield every instant before Mrs. Jones's frantic assault, there was no opportunity for detached reflection. Grabbing my hat from the table, I followed Bruce out on to the balcony, shutting the window behind me. One glance up and down showed us that the road was empty. "You go first," I said unselfishly; "you're in most danger." He climbed the rail, and, clutching the stems of the ivy with both hands, slid off into space. Leaning over, I watched him swaying downwards in short, spasmodic jerks. Suddenly from within the room came the crash of a splintering panel. "Look out!" I yelled hurriedly. "I'm coming!" And, scrambling over the rail, I, too, committed myself to that inadequate creeper. I know that in books of adventure people swarm up and down an ivy-clad house without the faintest inconvenience, but as one who has tried it, I can only say that it's about the most poisonously impossible feat ever attempted. Bruce was luckier than I. He was within four feet of the ground when the stuff gave way; I must have fallen at least twelve. And I landed in a rose bush. Bruce, who had scrambled to his feet, rushed up and pulled me out of the wreckage. "Hurt?" he inquired eagerly. "Oh, no," I replied with some bitterness, "not in the least! I love to come down sitting on a rose bush. It's a kind of hobby of mine." We had no time to squabble, however. Before Bruce could answer, we heard the window above flung violently open, and the furious panting of Mrs. Jones, as she climbed out on to the balcony. That was enough. With incredible celerity we dashed for the garden gate, and nearly killed ourselves trying to get out at the same moment. Then, turning to the right, we raced down the road towards Haverstock Hill. We must have covered at least half the distance before I regained sufficient sanity to realize what we were doing. Then I clutched Bruce by the arm. "Steady on!" I gasped. "If there's any one looking they'll think we're mad!" Even as I spoke there came a sharp "teuf teuf!" and instinctively we pulled up. Round the corner of Fitz-John Villas bowled a solitary taxi, the driver leaning back comfortably in his seat and smoking a big cigar. "Hi!" we yelled in unison. Some note of unusual urgency in our summons must have attracted him, for he at once applied his brakes. Having done this, however, he recollected himself, and, removing his cigar, spat pleasantly in the roadway. "Nothin' doin', guv'nor!" he said, with a kind of gloomy satisfaction. "Just orf to the garrige." "You must!" I said desperately. "We're in a hurry, we can't wait! I'll give you a sovereign!" "A suvrin!" he repeated dully. "Where d'yer want to go to?"