For a moment or two he was entirely unconscious of the other occupants of the room. When at last he cast a glance about him it was to give a great start that all but threw him from his seat.
Before him, staring out of the window at the fire, was one of the most peculiar men he had ever seen. An albino, men would have called him, yet of unmistakable white blood. His hair was white and soft as a baby’s. His face was quite innocent of beard and, what startled Johnny most, the eyes of the man were pink as a white rabbit’s. To accurately judge the age of such a man was impossible. Johnny told himself that the man might be twenty-five or he might be forty.
Most astonishing of all was the expression on the man’s face. Johnny had seen just such an expression on the face of a boy when he had done something he thought of as extraordinarily clever. Even as Johnny looked at him the expression changed to one of fear and dismay.
“Look!” the man exclaimed. “A child! There at the window on the sixth floor!”
It was true. At a window, staring wild-eyed at the throng below her, was a girl of some twelve years.
“A child in the school house at midnight, and on the attic floor!” Johnny exclaimed. “What can it mean?”
The next instant his mind was on fire. Two thoughts fought for occupation of his brain. The child must be saved. All escape from within was shut off by flames; yet she must be saved; yes, she must be saved, and after that she must be questioned.
“It may be,” he told himself, “that she knows something regarding the origin of the fire.”
In this he was not entirely wrong.