But do please help me--we can do something, I am sure." "I do not see what, short of climbing up the flat walls of the house.

But I am not a lizard, you know." "We might call.

Perhaps they would hear our voices if we called together," suggested Vjera, drawing back into the middle of the street and looking up at the closed windows of the third story.
"Herr Fischelowitz!" she cried, in a shrill, weak tone that seemed to find no echo in the still air.
"Herr Fischelowitz, Fischelowitz, Fischelowitz!" bawled the Cossack, taking up the idea and putting it into very effective execution.

His brazen voice, harsh and high, almost made the windows rattle.
"Somebody will hear that," he observed and cleared his throat for another effort.
A number of persons heard it, and at the first repetition of the yell, two or three windows were angrily opened.

A head in a white nightcap looked out from the first story.
"What do you want at this hour of the night ?" asked the owner of the nightcap, already in a rage.
"I want Herr Fischelowitz, who lives in this house," answered the Cossack, firmly.
"Do you live here?
Are you shut out ?" "No--we only want--" "Then go to the devil!" roared the infuriated German, shutting his window again with a vicious slam.