me off with this longest ladder."

A dozen pair of hands reached for it at once. Off came the ladder with
a bound, while other men pressed up to aid.

"Right up to the sill of the window where that woman is!" shouted young
Captain Benson. Up went the ladder, exactly in place, while a score
of voices shouted:

"Get out on the ladder and come down, young lady! Can you?"

As if in answer, Mlle. Nadiboff was seen suddenly to reel backward as
though overcome by the smoke that poured up at her from the floor below.

"Where are you going?" shouted Jacob Farnum, hoarsely, as the submarine
captain threw off his jacket like a flash.

"Up there--of course--to help her!" Jack shouted back at him, as he
leaped at the rungs.

"It's the only thing a man can do," admitted Farnum, hoarsely. "Good
luck to you, Jack!"

CHAPTER XXIII

"GOOD-BYE, MY CAPTAIN!"

The first part of the climb was easy.

Unmindful of the cheers that followed the submarine boy raced up the
ladder.

Then he struck the belt of heavy smoke. Flames, too, leaped out at him.
He went through that zone of red with all possible speed, yet swift as
he was, he felt as though he were being roasted.

Then, at a greater height, the boy was forced to close his mouth, barely
breathing, for the smoke surrounded him. He felt as though he were
stifling, but he kept on.

Up on the sill the watching crowd below saw him. Then Jack Benson leaped
inside.

Ah! He could breathe, here, just a bit more, though the smoke had
followed him.

At the further end of the room, by the door that opened upon the
corridor, the flames were eating their way up through from the floor
below. There was a red barrier there that shut off any hope of retreat
by the corridor.

Yet these things Jack Benson saw only as his gaze swiftly swept the
room.

Mlle. Nadiboff lay in an unmoving, unconscious heap on the floor, some
ten feet back from the window. She was in evening dress, as though
prepared to descend to dinner.

"She can't go through the line of fire in that rig," muttered Jack, even
while his head reeled from the weight of smoke on his lungs.

Furiously he sprang at the bed, snatching off the blankets. These he
threw on the floor, rolling the Russian woman up in them.

Then he bent over to lift her. Ordinarily he could have performed the
task with ease, for his young arms were strong. But now, three-quarters
strangled by the smoke he had inhaled, Jack fai