"There'll always be an England," he murmured softly.
Freddy Farmer caught the direction of his gaze, looked himself and saluted in turn.
"Always!" he said with deep tenderness in his voice.
At that moment a shrill cry of pain came to them from out of the burning building. There was a second cry, and a third. They could see nothing but the fierce glow of the flames, but the cries seemed to come from the rear of the fourth floor.
"There are wounded people in that building!" Freddy cried.
"Trapped, and probably can't get out!" Dave added. "And it's a cinch their cries can't be heard by the fire wardens down there in the street. What say, Freddy?"
"Of course!" the English youth shouted, and went bounding for the door.
The elevators had stopped running, so they went down the stairs three and four at a time. They dashed through the vacant lobby, out the front door, and along the short court that led out onto the Strand. There they turned left and headed for a fire lieutenant directing his men at work trying to put out the fire in the bomb-hit building. Dave grabbed him by the arm, and pointed up.
"There are some people trapped on the fourth floor, sir!" he shouted. "We heard their screams from our hotel room. Fourth floor, rear."
The fire lieutenant looked at them, saw their uniforms, and wiped an annoyed look from his tired face.