He broke off and jumped to his feet in a listening attitude. Robert did the same, for in the porch they heard the voice of Lionel--or "Billy," as they had named their anonymous friend--in conversation with the landlord. The two men were discussing the weather, and Tony and his partner looked frantically at each other for a plan. In another minute Lionel might enter the parlor, and there was no escape. The door was but a yard distant from the porch: the window opened on the road. To leave the room by either egress might mean discovery, and for Robert to be recognized by Lionel would ruin all. That is, it might effectively put an end to the development of the adventure, for if "Billy's" suspicions were awakened he might take the first train back to town. At least he would be put on his guard, and that would make things more difficult than ever. It was imperative that Robert should be hidden from sight. But where? He could not be concealed under the table, for no cloth lay upon it, drooping decorously over the edges. There was no cupboard large enough to contain the bulk of Bangs. No friendly screen, the time-honored refuge of the dramatist, stood in any corner. No Falstaffian basket was there to promise aid. The room was a Sahara in view of the unhappy arrival of "Billy," and beads of perspiration stood out on Robert's brow as he waited, without a plan, helpless as a trapped rabbit. Tony's friends used sometimes to complain that he put them in impossible situations. The charge was not unjust; but, as Tony would point out when accused, he was equally ready to sacrifice himself if circumstances demanded it. It was unfortunate, no doubt, that Fate seemed to prefer the immolation of a friend, but that was not his fault,--it was Fate who should be reviled. This was an occasion calling for presence of mind, resource and unflinching discipline. If the adventure of his life was to be carried through successfully, no minor considerations--such as friendship or soot--could be allowed to weigh. With a strong gesture he pointed to the old-fashioned hearth and capacious chimney. "Up you go!" he whispered. "Look sharp!" Robert recoiled. "No! no!" he whispered piteously. "Not that! Surely----" He was not allowed to argue. In another moment Robert felt himself led, as in a dream, to the fireplace. The next, and he had a foot upon the massive iron bars. Luckily there was no fire laid, no coal to disturb and proclaim his bid for obscurity. He looked up into the cavernous darkness and groaned in spirit; that was the first time he regretted his mad flight. Then, helping himself by projecting bricks, searching for insecure crevices with his toes, he began to climb the few feet necessary to safety.