But, either Hartly had not heard or did not heed his cries, for no assistance came.
Out in the hall, which adjoined the doorless room, the flames soon began to crackle ominously, and the pungent smell of smoke crept through the wall to his nostrils.
For a few moments Fritz stood transfixed with horror, as the peril of his situation began to dawn upon him.
He knew by the smell that the house was on fire; he knew that if he did not make a hasty escape he would be consumed in the merciless flames.
What was he to do?
Really, what was there he could do?
He rushed about, scarcely aware what he was doing.
Suddenly his foot caught upon something, and he fell violently to the floor.
In all his after life he could look back with gladness upon that mishap, as it was the means of saving him from an awful death.
Quickly scrambling to his feet, he searched the floor; a moment later his hand came in contact with an iron ring. Pulling upon it, he raised a trap in the floor, disclosing a large aperture leading down into another pit below, which he concluded was a cellar.