Through the jagged opening in the door he thrust his arm and jerked
free the upper bolt. An instant later he had kicked the lower panel
into splinters and withdrawn the second bolt, and at last, under
the savage onslaught of his iron bar, the spring lock flew apart.
The hall lay open before him. On one side of it the burning
staircase was a well of flame; at his feet, the matting on the
floor was burning fiercely. He raced into the bedroom and returned
instantly, carrying a blanket and a towel dripping with water. He
pressed the towel across the girl's mouth and nostrils. "Hold it
there!" he commanded. Blinded by the bandage, Miss Dale could see
nothing, but she felt herself suddenly wrapped in the blanket and
then lifted high in Ford's arms. She gave a cry of protest, but the
next instant he was running with her swiftly while the flames from
the stair-well scorched her hair. She was suddenly tumbled to her
feet, the towel and blanket snatched away, and she saw Ford hanging
from an iron ladder holding out his hand. She clasped it, and he
drew her after him, the flames and cinders pursuing and snatching
hungrily.

But an instant later the cold night air smote her in the face, from
hundreds of hoarse throats a yell of welcome greeted her, and she
found herself on the roof, dazed and breathless, and free.

At the same moment the lifting fire-ladder reached the sill of the
third-story window, and a fireman, shielding his face from the
flames, peered into the blazing room. What he saw showed him there
were no lives to rescue. Stretched on the floor, with their
clothing in cinders and the flames licking at the flesh, were the
bodies of the two murderers.