The stairway leading to the second story was also on fire, and thus rendered impassable, and the family and servants were being taken out of the second-floor windows by the firemen when Clifford appeared upon the scene.
"Where is Squire Talford?" he demanded of the landlady, as soon as he could find her.
"Merciful heavens, sir! I'm sure I don't know. He must be up-stairs in his room. With so many other things on my mind I haven't thought of him till this minute!" cried the almost distracted woman, wringing her hands in terror.
Clifford turned suddenly white with a terrible fear. One sweeping glance aloft told him that the man would shortly be suffocated by smoke, even if the flames had not already reached him. He knew that he could not put his injured foot to the floor; that he was almost as helpless as an infant; and unless he had immediate assistance the chances in his favor were very small indeed.
It was too late to try to save him by getting him out of the windows on the front of the house, for some of the firemen had been burned while making their last trip down the ladder with their burdens, and the flames were now pouring out of them.
Without saying a word to any one, he dashed back into his own house, bounded up three flights of stairs, and made his way out upon the roof, through a skylight, and ran across to the one on the roof of the fated building.
It was fastened; but with one blow of his heel he smashed a pane of glass, and reaching inside, unhooked it, throwing it open with a force that nearly tore it from its hinges. The next moment he was making his way down the stairs; but the whole place was black with smoke so dense that he could scarcely see or breathe.
He sprang into the squire's room, to find the man lying crossway of the bed, his face downward, panting for breath and moaning piteously. He had tried to get up to escape, wrenched his ankle, and fallen back again half-fainting from the pain, from fear, and a horrible sense of his own helplessness.
"Courage, Squire Talford!" cried Clifford, in forceful tones. "I will have you out of this very shortly. Now think quick—have you any papers and valuables that you want to take with you?"
"Yes—a package of documents in my trunk—my watch and wallet are under my pillow," the man feebly responded, though he had lifted his head eagerly the instant he caught the sound of the familiar, encouraging voice.