A hand was fumbling with the casement. Then a face appeared, horror-stricken, gasping.
"It's old Snodburry!" exclaimed Carline. "They've forgotten all about him."
"Quick—bring a ladder!" shouted Peter. "There's one in the stable-yard."
"Stand by to steady it," said Peter resolutely, as the ladder was reared against the wall. "I'm going up—not you."
Waiting only to tie his scarf over his mouth and nose Craddock ascended the ladder. One smart blow demolished the pane of glass that enabled him to get to the casement fastening. The next instant the window was wide open, a rush of smoke well nigh forcing the Sea Scout from his precarious perch.
The room was full of smoke and in darkness. Leaning over the sill Peter groped but found nothing. Then a spurt of reddish flame darting through a charred portion of the floor revealed a huddled figure lying half way between the window and the door.
Craddock hesitated no longer. With a diving-like movement he leapt through the window on to the floor, that gave ominously as it felt his weight. With smarting eyes and painfully drawn breath he crawled over the hot floor-boards until he was able to seize the unconscious form of Mr. Snodburry, and dragged him to the window.
Then came the critical time. The senseless man was too heavy. Peter, in spite of his strength, was handicapped by the fumes, while the window sill was waist-high from the floor.
Without knowing how he managed it, Peter heaved the helpless man until his head and shoulders were without the window. Then he got astride the sill and groped for the top rung of the ladder, by this time unable to decide what to do. He was suffocating, but even in his half stifled state he realised that if he let go of his burden, Mr. Snodburry would probably break his neck by the fall.
A burst of flame from the lower window enveloped the ladder. Something had to be done, and that quickly.