The Argosy, Vol. 76, No. 3 — page 223: what you’re looking at

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

THE PINK PRUNE PAYS. there than it had been outside, the flames were eating at a wall. They had probably come up the lines of thin partitioned dressing rooms. The strong man and his cigarette! ‘That was it! As Charlie Jayson, panting, lungs bursting with the smoke, leaned over to lift Molly, a curse that was terrible in its passion escaped him. He remembered the opened door of the juggler’s room. He had escaped— escaped without warning the two per- sons who remained. He had left them to die in a trap his carelessness had kindled. “Molly!” he cried, and there was a sobbing catch in his voice. “ Molly!” “—_confused,” he only caught the last word of the gasping sentence. “Tried to make you hear — find door!” So that was it! He had been dream- ing like a fool! And the girl had been pounding on the walls because through her confusion and the smoke she could not locate the door! He had been dreaming, and the girl had been slowly suffocating. He cursed himself bitterly, as he had cursed the man who had looked mur- der from his pig eyes a dozen times, who had left them to die like this. He swung Molly’s light body to his shoulder. At the door he instinctively shrank back. The canvas drops, the fly-loft, the dressing-room passage were flaming right to the circular iron stairway. He darted back to the room for a coat, pulled it tight over Molly. He started ahead. Staggered, fell to his knees as the smoke seared his lungs and lips and eyes. Crawling, half dragging, half carry- ing the girl, he went forward. There were the stairs! He had to make them, to make each dizzy, winding turn to the depths and safety. He felt something touch his face as it darted out of the smoke. The mon- key! He’d forgotten the monk! “Down!” he gasped. ‘‘ Down, Basket! ”’ - 693 He could only see the dim outline, but Socrates cowered closer. “Down!” he rasped, with all the power of his smoke-filled lungs. He took a supporting arm from Molly, slapped the monkey, and drove him to- ward the ‘stairs. A weird scream sounded as the Pink Prune reached the top iron step, and Charlie knew that already they were getting hot. But a shove of his hand drove the animal on without even see ing where he landed. The animal could take care of himself. Outside came the clang of gongs, the shriek of whistles. So they were on the job at last! On the job to save the other buildings, for 1t was too late to save this one... The steps were hot! Theiron hand-rail bit into his palms with its heat. But he must go on! Must! Somewhere came the pounding of wood. It was over him! Yes! Already the firemen had reached the roof and were working with their axes. ‘Was there more chance there? He looked back, straight into a Hades of. fire. No! He must go on! On! He heard a scream. They were try- ing to find out if any one was there. But he couldn’t answer. Breath was too precious, too choking, to waste, Down! One step! Another! A strip of burning canvas fell on the coat that protected Molly. He stopped to beat it out with his hand, They were falling all around him now. — He must hurry! Hurry! Perhaps Molly was dead? No, she couldn’t be dead. God wouldn’t let her die now. The dream must come true! Down! Why had they made the stairs so narrow? He couldn’t make it. The turns and twists were making him dizzy. He hadn’t room to carry Molly. The pounding had stopped overhead, or was it only the ringing and buzzing in his ears that drowned the lesser noise? There were the lower flies. Flames! All flames! He drew back: before them! He couldn’t pass! Couldn't! COMicdoo S CO@