ring is in the pocket of your waistcoat. There'll be no best man. I'll wait here to make ready for your getaway."
"My get-away!" cried Farralon wildly. "For heaven's sake! isn't it over yet? Is there any more of this confounded practical joke?"
"More!" said Astro smiling. "You ought to know the capacity of the Pi Rho Nu. There's a hack covered with ribbons which I've had ready at the door, and there's a brass band and a demonstration waiting at the pier that will make you feel as if you were a crown prince."
Farralon wilted. "Well, I guess I'll get what's coming to me this time," he said, grinning feebly.
"No, you won't. You'll escape on Miss Wister's account. I've got it all fixed. As soon as you can, after the ceremony, you and your wife are to go upstairs. Say you're going to leave in the cab at the door in half an hour and drive by way of the Christopher Street ferry to Hoboken. Then get up to the roof, come back here, just as you are, and I'll give you your instructions?"
"But my trunks, and Kitty's my clothes, and everything—"
"Everything is ready in that furniture van at the door. Now hurry! You've wasted two minutes!"
Farralon darted across the roof at reckless speed. Astro watched, with a lingering smile, till the groom disappeared over the edge of the roof of the third house beyond. Then he descended into the house again. Valeska was arranging a queer collection of clothes in a rear room up-stairs.
"Is everything ready?" he asked.
