"You are sure my sister got out all right?"
"Oh, yes; everyone on the stage escaped within two minutes after the first alarm. Don't you know I told you that I saw her go out? You will find her with your mother when you get back to the hotel."
Al said good-night once more, and walked away.
"Well," muttered the manager, as he stood and watched the lad's slim figure until it was lost to view, "that boy is a corker. I don't believe he is afraid of anything on earth—except speech-making. I should like to see him really agitated for once."
Mr. Wattles had his wish in less than fifteen minutes.
He had just lighted the gas in his hotel room when there was a quick knock upon the door.
Before he could say "Come in!" Al rushed into the room.
One glance at his face showed the manager that something unusual must have happened. Never before had he seen the boy so intensely excited; he was panting for breath, and his face was ghastly pale.
"What is the matter?" the old gentleman gasped.
"Gladys—my sister——" the boy began.