Argosy, Vol. 1 (December 9, 1882) — page 137: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

130 THE ARGOSY. came, his heart leaped mto his throat with horror, for he saw a little knot of people at the door, and a man at the lamp post ringing an alarm—was ét for P “ Has he done it?” shrreked Dannt, charging down the group; “has he done it?” | “What, sir? ” the policeman asked ; “it’s the house is afre.” Daunt looked up. Wreaths of smoke were curling through the tran- som of the vestibule which the heat had broken, and there was a faint crack- ling noise. The policeman was battering at the front door. It pave with a crash and a splintering of wood, just as Daunt had stooped ‘to dip his handkerchief in the gutter and lay it over his face. Then he dashed miside- How thick the smoke was! It clutched him round the throat with a deadly prip, and his eyes were filled with at. He clung to the baluster, and bent his head low to get a breath of air near the floor. The fire, which had started in the cellar, had flamed thus far in the front of the house, so as Dannt mounted, it grew cooler; but the smoke, collected in the halls, was more dense. It was a pungent, asphyxiating smoke, due to the presence of certain chemicals which Courtney had been keeping in his cellar, and Daunt found his breath growmg labored. He forced his way to the library, crying Chris’ name. The lamp was stili dimly burning, and there was a draft of air by an open window. Daunt paused, gasping, and looked wildly around. There was no sign of Chris. in the upper hall the smoke was unendurable; Daunt was beaten back. As he turned to flee for nis life, his foot struck an inert body, and the next moment he bent over the unconscious Courtney, who still held the pistol in his hand. Daunt wrenched away the pistol and flung st from him. Then he piclsed Chris up and staggered with him to the stair. Oh, that long stair! Was ever stair so long? Courtney was an unusu- ally tall man, heavily built, and Daunt was a slender boy at best, and weak- ened from dissipation ; but he held him by the arms and dragged him painfully down. The heat grew more intense; his breath came short. He gathered Chris up into his arms as well as he could, and shutting his eyes, pushed onward. As he bent his head 50 as to get a good breath, something intensely bright flared into his eyes, and he felt a terrible pain in his nghf hand. He crept down a step or two farther, shielding Chris from the flame with his arm. Then came a clanging of bells, and a roar of people’s voices ; cold air swept across his face and he pltnged forward, knowing no more. 4 x x * ak * * One morning two weeks later Chris Courtney opened his eyes, conscious that the pain and anguish of fever had left him. In his intense weakness he lay quite still and tried to reconstruct something out of the tangle of the past —the whirl of pain and delirium, and faces that flashed npon him through wreaths like smoke—two faces, the doctor’s, and one other, at the sight of which he invariably shrieked and covered his eyes. GOH GoOOO ‘SS COLNT