He looked behind them. A red glare lighted up the corridor, and even as he gazed, a sheet of flame burst from a doorway further down the passage. Below them, there was bustle and shouting in plenty, but apparently they were the only guests quartered in that part of the hotel.
Jack looked grave. The position they occupied was a very dangerous one. The gap in the stairway was wide and they were trapped with that chasm in front and the flames behind them.
“What are we going to do?” gasped Bill, turning pale.
“I don’t know; we are in a bad fix, Bill,” confessed Jack. “Perhaps,—hello!” he broke off, as the tiny figure of a pretty little girl emerged from a room which adjoined the one they had just vacated.
The tot held in her arms a doll and her eyes were wide with dismay.
“Oh, man, what has happened?” she gasped.
“Something very terrible, little girl,” answered Jack, “but are you alone?”
“Oh, no, my mamma’s in the room. She’s sick, I think.”
“Great Scott,” groaned Jack, “this is serious. It was bad enough before, but now——” He looked at Bill desperately.
“We’ve got to get that woman out of there,” said Bill.