There was a rain barrel half full of water standing near the porch. Joe stripped off his coat, plunged it into the water, and then wound the dripping garment around his neck and face, leaving just room for his eyes to see where he was going.
Then he plunged into the reeking fumes and groped about for a staircase. He was not sure that there was one in the back and he breathed a sigh of relief as his hand touched a banister.
He went up the stairs quickly, guided only by the sense of touch, for his eyes were smarting so from the smoke that they refused their office. Even if they had not done so they would have been of very little use in that dense blackness.
But there was light enough—too much—when he reached the second floor. Here the flames had secured a strong grip. The front rooms were ablaze and red tongues were licking at the stairs that led to the third story.
Joe had hoped that the back staircase would extend to the top of the house. But he found it ended at the second floor. From that landing he had to traverse the hall and make the rest of his journey up through the front of the house.
He drew his wet coat more tightly around his face and made a dash for the stairs. The flames reached out for him. The heat was intolerable. The chances were ten to one that if he ever went up that staircase he would never come down.
But he did not hesitate a second. Up he went, shielding himself as best he could, and found himself on the top floor.
To his right was the room in which the woman was trapped. Luckily she had shut the door after the one terrified glance that had revealed to her the fire below. That shut door had held off the flames temporarily, but now it was beginning to blaze.
Joe burst in. He was just in time, for already the frenzied woman was poising herself for the leap that would have meant maiming or death.
Joe ran to the window and pulled her off the sill.