He stepped almost impatiently to the edge of the building and found that a narrow crevice intervened between the drifts and the walls of the houses, and a further inspection revealed the utterly unexpected good luck, that this peculiar chimney way extended along the west side of St. David street to Princes street. Their safety seemed secured. In a few minutes after this welcome discovery, with careful steps, Leacraft insisting upon the Scotchman and himself lifting the young woman together, with Jim leading, the party slowly crept out and along the buildings on St. David street, and in a short time had reached Princes street, where more arms, vigorous legs, and robust bodies helped them through the shooting drifts into the open rift, that the men and sledges were still precariously maintaining. Leacraft hurried Thomsen and his charge to the hotel; he turned to Jim, and grasped his hand fervently, “You’ve been a true man, Jim. I shan’t forget this. Every one leaves Edinburgh to-night by the train. I want you in my compartment. This young woman and her friends will be with me. I’ll find you at the hotel before the train leaves. Watch for me.” As he spoke, and before the expostulation on Jim’s lips was uttered, a long hoarse whistle like a wail came to their ears. It was the warning of the trainmen fearful to delay longer their departure from the doomed city--and with it, hurrying steps, shouts and injunctions along the cut, indicated its recognition. “Come with me,” cried Leacraft, and together the men ran forwards, towards the Lothian road, finding themselves as they advanced in a jostling crowd, animated by but one hope, escape from the buried capital. The condition indicated in the foregoing narrative, may now be more explicitly reviewed. The dislocations and subsidences in the Caribbean and Central American areas had developed along constructional lines, and had swept away the lesser Antilles and the Isthmus.