The Argosy, Vol. 76, No. 3 — page 224: what you’re looking at

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

694 What did they want to bother with the roof for? Why weren’t they be- low there? He heard a sudden swish, a hissing sizzle that sounded like a thousand whistles released at once. Water! They’d got a line in! They were working. And on the hot iron steps that seemed to bite to his very bone he prayed: “O God, send it right! know!” His face felt a hot drop of water! ‘Another! The prayer was being an- swered. A great knife seemed to cut the flames below him. New strength came! Down! Another step! Then a stream of water caught his shoulder and whirled him around, then steadied across the narrow iron stairs. He cursed in his heart, for his lips could no longer frame words. He could not pass that stream! A full force of the high pressure would stun him; perhaps kill the girl who was in his arms. But it held, steady, a four-inch thing of deliver- ance. Seconds, minutes, hours! Then the hands that were directing it from a window hidden in the pall of smoke turned it. Down! The water had given him new life! His clothes were soaked with it, and the steam arose from them as they touched the rail. But there was the stage—and a soft-footed specter in shiny black! Two of them! A roaring voice sound: ‘ in his ears, but he could not make vut the words, for the buzzing and ringing had come again to drown everything else. He felt the stairway quiver and shake beneath him. It was falling! Then two wet arms encircled the body of Molly; he felt the relief of the weight. She was safe! Safe! And he was tired! Terribly tired! Funny how soft the hot iron was—funny— Let them He seemed to have slept for cen- turies, and to have dreamed dreams of wonderful things, of Molly, of beauti- ful homes, of two-a-days; but there had always come the burning, searing fire THE ARGOSY. to destroy them. He opened his eyes, and they smarted; his face felt raw. “— round all right!’’ Once more he heard only the end of a sentence. Where had he heard one before? Something that burned trickled down his throat, and it seemed to give him life and thoughts. It was Molly who had uttered that broken sentence! ‘He tried to straighten up, but the hand of the ambulance surgeon forced him back. ‘“'Where’s — where’s Molly?” he gasped. It was the first time he had spoken that name aloud, and it sounded as sweet as the songs she sang. “Gone to the hospital,” the surgeon answered with crisp curtness. No holding hand could keep Charlie Jayson down now. “She isn’t— isn’t—’’ He couldn’t say the word. The surgeon remembered that he was human then. “ No,” he said very kindly. “ She’ll be all right in a few days—thanks to you and you’re a man!’’ He took his hand from Char- lie’s shoulder and rose with a smile. “* Here’s another friend of yours.” Charlie turned his head, and the brewn, hairy form of Socrates snuggled up close to him. The ambulance sur- geon turned away. Charlie lifted a hand to pat the monkey. Then, with great care, Socrates held a brown paw out to show what he had hidden. It was a key with a red tag! Charlie stared down at it uncompre- hendingly a second, then slowly dawn- ing horror came. Like a flash'of light- ning itcame. The drunken sleep of the strong man, the lighted cigarette, the door ajar with its red-tagged key, Socrates’s trick of locking and unlock- ing his master’s door, and hatred. He understood then the pounding above! The strong man, waked from his whisky - sleep, dazed, bewildered, frightened, trying to pound his way out with his failing strength, the cry he had half heard! And here was the key with the red tag! The Pink Prune had paid! COMicdoo S CO@