Slowly they wormed their way through the throng that packed the street solidly from side to side. It seemed a long time before they at last reached the rope and were challenged by a policeman. Mr. George’s badge was sufficient, however, and the officer raised the rope. But when Tom started to follow he was thrust back.
“Here, you, back of the rope there!”
“He’s with me, Lieutenant,” said Mr. George. “It’s all right.”
The officer, who was not even a sergeant, looked doubtful, but Mr. George’s air of authority, and the compliment, also, perhaps, had the desired effect and Tom was allowed to pass. Before them the end of the street lay well-nigh empty, and they hurried along it to the corner of Main Street. Here engines were pumping, lines of hose stretched like mammoth serpents across the wet pavements, and rubber-clad fighters hurried by. About the entrance to the building a knot of privileged persons gathered and thither Mr. George and Tom went. Leaky hose drenched them and busy firemen shouldered them. Shouts and commands sounded above the steady roar of the engines. Two men came through the doorway from the smoky murk beyond. One was the Chief, the other an assistant. They dripped with water as they paused where Mayor Kelland stood.
“Can’t reach him from inside, Mr. Mayor,” said the Chief incisively. “Everything’s burning around the well. We’ve got to try the scaling-ladders, I guess. Either that or the net. Tell Cassidy, Jim, to start up on the front. Hall’s office is on the side of the building about halfway between front and staircase. You get on the roof over there and see if you can find him. He hasn’t shown himself yet, and it may be he got out, but I’m blessed if I see how he could. And no one’s seen him around, as far as I can learn. Get a move on, Jim!”
Following the others, Tom and his companion hurried around the side of the building, stumbling over pulsating hose, dodging spouting geysers from leaky connections. From the further sidewalk the dark wall of the building arose straight in air, a many-windowed cliff of stone and brick. Eager and anxious eyes swept as best they could the empty windows of the tenth floor. But a stone cornice at the eighth story cut off the view to some extent, while the lights from the street failed far short of that height.
“He said Mr. Hall,” whispered Tom troubledly. “You don’t suppose it’s John Hall, do you? Why, he was out at the game this afternoon!”
“Isn’t there something up there at that ninth window from the corner?” asked Mr. George, peering intently upward. “Have a look, Tom. See where I mean? Something’s moving. It’s a man! He’s standing on the window-ledge! Chief, he’s up there! You can see him now!”
Far up a form appeared dimly against the darkness of a window and a shout arose from the group below, and at the moment something struck the pavement with a crash.