He turned, snatched up his great-coat, and wrapped it about the slight,
boyish figure. The great dark eyes that shone out of the small white
face thanked him for the action. The clinging hands slipped from his
shoulders and clasped his arm. Together they faced the fearful heat that
raged behind the safety-curtain.

They reached the small door, gasping. It was almost hidden by green
drapery. But the dancer was evidently familiar with it. In a moment it
was open. A great burst of smoke met them. The man drew back. But a
quick hand closed upon his, drawing him on. He went blindly, feeling as
if he were stepping into the heart of a furnace, yet strangely
determined to go forward whatever came of it.

The smoke and the heat were frightful, suffocating in their intensity.
The roar of the unseen flames seemed to fill the world.

The door swung to behind them. They stood in seething darkness.

But again the small clinging hand pulled upon the man.

"Quick!" the dancer cried again.

Choked and gasping, but resolute still, he followed. They ran through a
passage that must have been on the very edge of the vortex of flame, for
behind them ere they left it a red light glared.

It showed another door in front of them with which the dancer struggled
a moment, then flung open. They burst through it together, and the cold
night wind met them like an angel of deliverance.