"Can I help you, Bert?" he asked.
"Oh, yes!" exclaimed Mrs. Blarcum, the aged housekeeper, as she stood some distance back, out of the smoke. "There are some valuable paintings in that room, and they ought to be saved. Can you boys get them out?" and she pointed to the door of an apartment just back of where the two lads, with the hose nozzles, stood.
"Sure we will!" replied Vincent. "Come on, Bert. That will be easier than saving horses."
The flames seemed to be eating back, in spite of the efforts of the young firemen, and the aid given by the bucket brigade, which last was not much. They had run up ladders on the outside of the house, near where the flames were, and were throwing water on in that way.
"Why, the door's locked!" exclaimed Vincent, as he tried the knob.
"Where's the key?"
"Locked!" repeated Mrs. Blarcum. "I didn't know that. The paintings will be burned, and Mr. Stockton was very fond of them. They cost a lot of money."
"We can break the door in!" cried Bert. "Come on, Vincent!"
The boys prepared to rush at the portal.
"Stop!" cried a ringing voice, and they looked up to see Muchmore hastening toward them. "Don't you dare go into that room!"