Cyril managed to get up.
"I can just touch the top, but I can't get my fingers on to it."
"Put your foot on my head. I will warrant it is strong enough to bear your weight."
Cyril did as he was told, grasped the top of the wall, and, after a sharp struggle, seated himself astride on it. Just as he did so, a window in a wing projecting into the garden was thrown open, and a female voice uttered a loud scream for help. There was light enough for Cyril to see that the lower windows were all barred. He shouted back,—
"Can't you get down the staircase?"
"No; the house is full of smoke. There are some children here. Help! Help!" and the voice rose in a loud scream again.
Cyril dropped down into the roadway by the side of John Wilkes.
"There are some women and children in there, John. They can't get out. We must go round to the other side and get some axes and break down the door."
Snatching up his cloak, he ran at full speed to his former position, followed by Wilkes. The roof of the house was now in flames. Many of the shutters and window-frames had also caught fire, from the heat. He ran up to two gentlemen who seemed to be directing the operations.
"There are some women and children in a room at the back of that house," he said. "I have just been round there to see. They are in the second storey, and are crying for help."