"Ready will come right across here as soon as he gets down," he said. "I suppose he is all right, but the fire is on that floor!"
But Ready did not appear. Other fire-engines arrived and began their work. Firemen swarmed everywhere. But the fire increased in intensity in spite of this fight against it. The hotel appeared to have emptied itself of its occupants.
And still Jack Ready did not come. Willis Paulding stumbled across the street, white and shaky. His hair and eyebrows were singed, his Lunnon-made clothes were wet and limp, and he was terribly frightened.
"Merriwell," he gasped, "Jack Ready is up there!"
Merry started. A fear that such might be the case had been growing on him.
"How do you know?" he asked.
Paulding forgot his English drawl in his fright and excitement.
"I saw him!" he admitted. "He was trying to get Lew Veazie down the stairs when he fell. Veazie had been drinking a little, and couldn't help himself."
"And where is Veazie?"
"He is down on the street somewhere."