Slowly, a torch-like, stricken thing, he sank out of sight, and as the pursuers outside rushed forward, the figure of a woman appeared on the old veranda, half naked, shrieking, carrying something tightly locked in her arms, and plunged down the steps into the snow.
Fairchild, circling far to one side, caught her, and with all his strength resisted her squirming efforts until Harry and Bardwell had come to his assistance.

It was Crazy Laura, the contents of her arms now showing in the light of the flames as they licked every window of the upper portion of the house,--five heavy, sheepskin-bound books of the ledger type, wrapped tight in a grasp that not even Harry could loosen.
"Don't take them from me!" the insane woman screamed.

"He tried it, didn't he?
And where 's he now--up there burning! He hit me--and I threw the lamp at him! He wanted my books--he wanted to take them away from me--but I would n't let him.

And you can't have them--hear me--let go of my arm--let go!" She bit at them.

She twisted and butted them with her gray head.