Clutching his wrist, he drew him into the passage. Fresh clouds of smoke rolled to meet them. Flames were leaping upwards from the burning staircase. Philip Darnell shrank back in terror; but Gus, with the strength of desperation, dragged him on through the dense smoke down the passage, and into one of the back bedrooms, where the atmosphere was clearer. Gus made for the window, threw it up, and stepped out upon the sill. Darnell managed, with his help, to get up beside him, clinging to the casement; but the man was shaking so, that it seemed impossible that he could long retain his hold. They tried to shout; but their voices were choked, and only a faint sound escaped them.
The fire was at a distance from them now; they had only to fear the smoke, the suffocating, choking smoke. How long could they hold out against that? Would it hide them from those below?
"Is there any hope?" asked Darnell faintly.
"Yes, there is hope," Gus said. "I hear a shout. I believe the people see us. Hold on with all your might."
"I can't hold on much longer," was the reply. Then, as a thought struck him, Darnell tried to peer through the smoke at the boy who stood beside him. "I don't know you," he said; "who are you?"
In moments of extreme peril, the past comes back to us with extraordinary vividness. At that instant, there flashed upon Gus' mind all that his father had told him of his past history, and of the way in which he had been wronged by Philip Darnell. He remembered how his father had told him that he was by birth a gentleman; and the name rightfully his, though so long forgotten, stood forth distinctly before him now, as though written on the murky atmosphere in letters of fire.
There was scarce a pause ere he said calmly, in reply to his companion's question, "I am Augustus Devereux Carruthers."
Darnell's ear caught the words. He started violently, lost his balance for a moment, and, but for Gus' quick grasp, must have fallen. Gus did not loose his hold of him again.
There were more shouts from below. The people had seen them. The fire-escape was being brought to the spot. No time was lost by those below; but the waiting seemed awful to the two who stood on the window-sill.
Gus dared not look down. His head was growing dizzy, his limbs numb. His hands still kept their grasp of Philip Darnell and of the window-frame, but they were growing lax; they seemed not to belong to him.