"If he does rescue that man it'll only be to put him in jail," said Bob.
"Or shoot him more likely," cried Riley angrily.
Breathless they waited for any sign of Donovan. The fire burned more fiercely every moment, and it seemed incredible that any man could enter that seething furnace and return alive. The air was filled with sparks and blazing embers; the smoke mounted heavenward in a thick column which must have been visible for miles.
Minutes that seemed like hours passed. Hugh and the two detectives returned from their chase. They had not captured their man.
"We followed him as far as the road," one of them reported. "He had a motor cycle there and got away from us."
"We'll get him later, never fear," said Sergeant Riley, grimly. "Meanwhile that crazy man, Donovan, is in the house here trying to rescue some one of them German plotters that showed his face at the window."
The recipients of this piece of news gasped. "He'll never come out," exclaimed one of the men. "Still, he never did seem to care much for his life."
White faced and tense they watched the conflagration. Certainly not one of the men ever expected to see Donovan again. Yet what could they do? As Sergeant Riley had said, it was folly for any one else to follow him in, and so they were powerless. All they could do was watch and hope.
Suddenly a figure appeared at the door. It seemed to issue straight from the hottest part of the fire. On its shoulder was the limp figure of a man.
"There he is!" cried six voices together, and together the six watchers made for the house.