"What's doing?" gasped the reporter. "Is anybody in there?"
Harry pointed to the shuttered window of the upper room. The cries came again, and with the sound, of the woman's voice Bassett turned sick. He made a dizzy charge at the door, but Harry caught him back.
"All three together," he said.
They flung their strength at the portal—but still it held.
Bassett turned away, sobbing. He looked up to see Harry spring into the big car which he forced through the brambles.
"What are you doing? You're crazy!" yelled the chauffeur, running toward the machine.
"Get her—if I can't—after the smash!" was Harry's answer. The car lunged on at full speed.
The impact rocked the burning house. Frame and door crashed down together before the battering car. It plowed for half its length into the smoke and fire, stopped an instant, quivered and backed out again, splendid ruin.
On Harry's forehead a deep cut streamed.
Bassett sprang to catch him, but he climbed out unhelped. Together they leaped the shattered wall. Through searing smoke they climbed the quaking stairs and burst into the shuttered room.