The moon shone wanly on the girl's face and wet hair.
"I'm nobody," she wailed, "and I be tired of life."
"Did you see aught of a strange woman?" asked Martindale. "One who was talking about the moon, and her head a-whirling?"
"She came right down the road ahead of me," she answered, in a weak voice, "and ran straight into the pool. When she was in, she grabbed the floating image of the moon, and she said: 'I've got you, at last, you comical villain!' And she laughed, and seemed to struggle with it, and she went down."
"That'd be her, all right," said the lamplighter.
"Ada mine, Ada mine," mourned Martindale.
Angel and The Seraph and I clutched hands, and looked shudderingly into Wumble Pool.
"That seemed to scare me like," went on the girl, "and I couldn't jump right in, but I just crept, a step at a time, fearing I'd step on the body."
"No danger," said The Seraph complacently, "there's no bottom."
"One thing is certain," pronounced the lamplighter, "this young 'ooman should have some hot spirits in her inside, and be wrapped in a warm blanket, afore she's starved with the cold."
First we walked all around Wumble Pool, and
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