"I dare say he will," returned the Doctor. "But it’s cheap, and he knows it." He rose. "Shall we go down and witness the feat?" "Why not?" answered the Soldier. "It may stop Deering telling us again about his new play." Half an hour later the whole house-party were grouped round the base of the chimney. Close to, it seemed to have grown in height, till it towered above them into the starlit sky. The girls were chattering gaily, standing around Seymour—except for Sybil, who stood a little apart; while the two Eton boys were busily engaged hi deciding on the correct method of ascent. Seated on a pile of bricks sat the four men, more occupied with a never-ending political argument than the performance of climbing the chimney; while in the background, standing by himself, was Peter Benton, with a twisted, bitter smile on his face. He was under no delusions as to why the bet had been made: just a further episode, thought out by a spiteful girl, to show his conduct that afternoon in a blacker light. On the surface, at any rate, it was more dangerous to the ordinary man to climb this chimney than to go into the mill-stream. And this was being done merely for sport—as a prank; while the other might have saved a dog’s life. With a laugh, Seymour swung himself off the ground, and started to climb. He went up swiftly, without faltering; and after a while even the political discussion ceased, and the party below stared upwards in silence. In the cold white light the climber looked like some gigantic insect, creeping up the brickwork, and gradually as he neared the top the spectators moved farther away from the base of the chimney, in order to see him better. At length he reached the limit of the main scaffolding; only some temporary makeshift work continued for the few feet that separated him from the actual top. He hesitated for a moment, apparently reconnoitring the best route; and Madge Saunderson, cupping her mouth in her hands, shouted up to him: "Right up, Captain Seymour, or you won’t get your cigarettes." And Seymour looked down. It would be hard to say the exact moment when the watchers below realized that something was wrong—all, that is, save Madge Saunderson and the other two girls who had been in the quartette. It was the Doctor who rose suddenly and said, "Heavens! he’s lost his head!" "Don’t shout!" said the Soldier, imperatively. "Leave it to me." He looked up, and his voice rang through the night: "Captain Seymour—General Hardcastle speaking. Don’t look down. Look up—do you hear me?—look up. At once!" But the face of the aviator still peered down at them, and it almost seemed as if they could see his wide, staring eyes. "My God!" muttered the Soldier. "What are we going to do?" "Let’s all shout together," said the Actor. "No good," cried the General. "You’ll only confuse him."