It was a woman, Virgie knew by the tones, and all her sympathies were instantly aroused.
She found her at last, and her heart sank within her as she saw her condition, for the poor creature was wedged between a demolished berth and the side of the car in such a way that it seemed impossible to rescue her.
It was a sickening sight, for, already, Virgie could see little tongues of flame leaping up all about her and shooting out toward her as if eager for their prey, while the smoke was rapidly growing denser.
The woman saw it, too, and her face was almost convulsed with agony and fear.
“Oh, do help me,” she prayed. “I shall be burned. I cannot die such a horrible death.”
Virgie felt that she was powerless—she knew that she could not so much as stir that mass of debris.
“I will go and call some one,” she said.
“No, no! You shall not leave me,” screamed the woman, frantic with terror.
“Madam,” Virgie returned, calmly but firmly, “it is impossible for me to do anything for you unaided. The best I can do will be to go for help; but first tell me who you are in case anything should happen to you before I can return.”
“I am Lady Linton. I live in Hampshire County, England, and am just on a visit to this country with my son and daughter, and some other friends, who are now awaiting me in Chicago. Now go—go and save me if you can.”