It was at that moment that Sybil appeared in the window, and the Soldier let his eyes dwell on the girl approvingly. "What a thoroughbred!" he said at length, turning to the Doctor. "I’m not certain it isn’t better—as it is." "Hang it, man!" said the Doctor, irritably. "The boy is a thoroughbred, too. What did you say yourself after dinner about the results having to justify the sacrifice?" But the Soldier only grunted non-committally. It would doubtless be an excellent thing if theory and practice never clashed. Sybil came slowly into the room, and Madge Saunderson rose with a meaning glance at Captain Seymour. "Syb," she cried, "we’ve got the finest bet on you’ve ever thought of! I’ve betted Captain Seymour six pairs of gloves that he doesn’t climb up Mill Down chimney in the moonlight, and he’s betted me five hundred of his most special cigarettes that he does." For a moment a silence settled on the room, which was broken by Lady Vera. "But are you quite sure it’s safe, my dear?" she remarked, searching for a dropped stitch. "It might fall down or something." Miss Saunderson laughed merrily. "Why, Aunt Vera," she cried, "there are men working on it every day. It’s quite safe—only I bet he’ll have cold feet, and not get to the top—V.C. and all." She flashed a smile at the flying-man. "And it’s a ripping evening for a walk." The Doctor turned to his companion. "I wonder what that young woman’s game is?" he remarked, thoughtfully. "I don’t know," answered the Soldier. "I suppose you’ve got a good head for heights, Seymour?" he called out. "Pretty fair, sir," replied the airman, with a grin. "I don’t mind twenty thousand feet, so I don’t think Mill Down chimney should worry me much." "The two things are not quite alike," said a quiet voice from the window, and everyone turned to see Peter Benton standing there, with his hands in his pockets. "I’ve got a shocking head for height myself, but I never noticed it when I was flying." "I think I will chance it," answered Seymour with a slight drawl, and having recently been supplied with Madge Saunderson’s version of the dog accident his tone was understandable. "Let’s all go down and see he doesn’t cheat," cried one of the girls, and there was a general exodus of the younger members of the party for wraps. Only Sybil, with troubled eyes, stood motionless, staring out into the brilliant moonlight; while Peter, lighting a cigarette, picked up an illustrated paper and glanced through it. And to the Doctor, watching the scene with his shrewd grey eyes, the only person in the room who seemed ill at ease was the flying-man himself. "What would the world be like," he remarked to the Soldier, "if woman lost her power to cause man to make a fool of himself?" "Good Lord! my dear fellow," said the other, "it’s only an after-dinner prank. That boy will do it on his head."