"For heaven's sake, have you a candle?" he said.
"Where's Roger?" she cried piteously, and stumbled into the kitchen.
With a candle Aubrey found Titania sitting on the floor, very faint, but unhurt. What he had thought was blood proved to be a pool of ink from a quart bottle that had stood over Roger's desk. He picked her up like a child and carried her into the kitchen. "Stay here and don't stir," he said.
By this time a crowd was already gathering on the pavement. Someone came in with a lantern. Three policemen appeared at the door.
"For God's sake," cried Aubrey, "get a light in here so we can see what's happened. Mifflin's buried in this mess somewhere. Someone ring for an ambulance."
The whole front of the Haunted Bookshop was a wreck. In the pale glimmer of the lantern it was a disastrous sight. Helen groped her way down the shattered aisle.
"Where was he?" she cried wildly.
"Thanks to that set of Trollope," said a voice in the remains of the Fiction alcove, "I think I'm all right. Books make good shock-absorbers. Is any one hurt?"
It was Roger, half stunned, but undamaged.
