This passed his mind like a flash as he looked to see how they might be rescued. He had seen that the firemen could not do it from the outside, and he made up his mind to a desperate undertaking.
Fortunately, Nick was known to all the battalion chiefs of the fire department, and to most of the other men. They all recognized him as a wonderful detective, and he was allowed privileges that ordinary citizens do not possess, even though they may have influence and great wealth.
It is not an easy thing to get inside the fire lines and be permitted to move about freely—unless you happen to be a newspaper man.
“Keep back, Patsy!” shouted Nick, as he dashed into the house, amid a shower of sparks and through a flood of water pouring from two or three lines of hose. “I’m going alone!”
“Come back!” bellowed a battalion chief. “You can’t get through there!”
Patsy and Chick would both have followed their chief, but firemen held them back, and they were obliged to yield.
As they looked up, they saw a man lean from the attic window of Billings’ house and Patsy yelled that it was Potter.
“It’s either Potter or Howard Milmarsh,” called out Chick. “I don’t know one from the other these days.”
“He’s going to try and save that girl!” said Patsy.
“Sure enough!” assented Chick. “But where’s the chief?” he added, in a tone of agony. “That’s what he went into that house for. I wish we’d never heard of this Milmarsh case!”