st the door. But the
bolts held, and through each fresh opening he made in the panels the
burning cinders, drawn by the draft from the windows, swept into the
room. From the street a mighty yell of consternation told them the fire
had been discovered. Miss Dale ran to the window, and the yell turned
to a great cry of warning. The air was rent with frantic voices. "Jump!"
cried some. "Go back!" entreated others. The fire chief ran into the
street directly below her and shouted at her through his hands. "Wait
for the life-net!" he commanded. "Wait for the ladders!"

"Ladders!" panted Ford. "Before they can get their engines through that
mob----"

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splinters and withdrawn the second bolt, and at last, under the savage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.

A bullet-hole in the forehead of each showed that self-destruction and
cremation had seemed a better choice than the gallows and