The firemen saw them and trained one of the hoses up there. The arc of water shot skyward, but by the time it got to a hundred feet high, it broke into a sprinkle. They started to run a fire wagon ladder up the side of the building, but that was no good—it couldn’t reach within thirty feet. The ladder rested there, tempting but useless. They were opening nets now, above the sidewalk. The people on the ledges were looking down at them. Would the nets hold if they jumped? It was an awfully long way down. The firemen didn’t seem to be telling them to jump. They hesitated.

Then Salvatore saw that Anna was looking toward them. She could see the statue of Garibaldi from up there, for sure, and she must be trying to find him and Angelo. With the water from the hoses and the smoke from the floor below, though, it mightn’t be so easy to make them out. He waved. Beside him, little Angelo waved too. But Anna didn’t wave back.

“Are we waving at Anna?” Angelo asked. “Can you see her?”

Salvatore didn’t answer. One of the girls had jumped. The young man jumped after her. Then Anna jumped.

Angelo didn’t see.

“Wait here,” Salvatore cried, and ran toward the building.

The nets were useless, of course. The firemen had only put them there as a last resort. By the time Salvatore got there, the fire chief was already telling his men to take them down again.

The young man who jumped had gone straight through the net. Anna and the other girls who’d followed her had hardly been slowed at all before they hit the sidewalk. Amazingly, Anna’s face was quite preserved, though the back of her head was entirely crushed. He didn’t need the fireman to tell him she was dead.

“That’s my sister,” he told the fireman, and gave him his name. “I have to take my little brother home, then I’ll be back.” He was amazed how composed he was.

He got back to the statue.

“Did Anna jump?” Angelo asked.

“Yes. She’s all right, but she’s hurt her leg, so they may take her to the hospital. She told me to take you home, and tell Mama. Then we’ll all go to see her later.”

“I want to see her now.”

“No, she told us to go straight home.”

“Are you sure she’s all right?”

“She’s fine.”

On May 23, 1911, no less a person than the President of the United States was in the City of New York for an important ceremony. On the site of the old fortress-like reservoir, the big library on Fifth Avenue was finally opening for business.