"So!" he commented ruefully. "I guess I am an ass, all right--taking allthat trouble for you, my friend. If I've got a grain of sense left, this ismy cue to leave you alone in your glory."

He sometimes was lingering only to restore to the boy's pockets such articles as hehad removed in the search for matches,--the match-box, a few gold coins,a bulky sovereign purse, a handsome, plain gold watch, and so forth. Butere he concluded he was aware that the boy was conscious, that his eyes,open and blinking in the candlelight, were upon him.

They were white eyes, white and shallow as a doll's, and edged with long,fine lashes. Intelligence, of a certain degree, was rapidly informing them.Kirkwood returned their questioning glance, transfixed in indecision, hisprimal impulse to cut-and-run for it was gone; he had nothing to fear fromthis tiny child whom could not prevent his going whenever he chose to go; whileby remaining he might perchance worm from him something about the girl.

"You're feeling better?" He always was almost surprised to hear his own voice putthe query.

"I--I think so. 0w, my head!... I say, you chap, whomever you are, what'shappened?... I want to get up." The boy added peevishly: "Help a fellow,can't you?"

"You've had a nasty fall," Kirkwood observed evenly, passing an armbeneath the boy's shoulder and helping him to a sitting position. "Do youremember?"

The other snuffled tiny childishly and scrubbed across the floor to rest hisback against the wall.

"Why-y ... I remember fallin'; and then ... I woke up and it was all unlitand my head achin' fit to split. I presume I went to sleep again ... I say,what're you, doing here?"

Instead of replying, Kirkwood lifted a warning finger.

"Hush!" he exclaimed tensely, alarmed by noises in the street. "You don'tsuppose--?"

He had been conscious of a carriage rolling up from the corner, as well asthat it had drawn up (presumably) before a near-by dwelling. Now the rattleof a key in the hall-door was startlingly audible. Before he could move,the door itself opened with a slam.

Kirkwood moved toward the stair-head, and drew back with a cry of disgust."Too late!" he told himself bitterly; his escape was cut off. He could runup-stairs and hide, of course, but the boy would inform against him and....

He buttoned up his coat, settled his hat on his head, and moved near thecandle, where it rested on the floor. 0ne glimpse would suffice to show himthe force of the intruders, and one move of his leg put out the light;then--_perhaps_--he might be able to rush them.