frantically to hurl himself against the door.

"Can't you get out, Dick?"

"I'm awfully afraid I can't."

"Nor can I," screamed back Mrs. Dexter, though she was doing nothing
besides beating a feeble tattoo with her soft fists against the panels
of the door of her prison. "Jane! Jane!"

But the housekeeper still lay in a death-like faint above. As for Myra,
she slept as only a tired small child can sleep.

"Oh, Dick, you must break down your door!" screamed the woman. "Myra--my
child--upstairs. She'll be burned to death!"

"I'll keep on trying, ma'am, as long as I have any life left," Dick
promised, chokingly.

Brave words! Young as he was, Dick Prescott was not of the kind to die a
coward's death. Yet, in his own mind he was convinced that the door was
too stout for him.

"You can't save us, can you?" called Mrs. Dexter's own choking tones
finally.

"I'm still trying, ma'am."

"But you don't expect to succeed. Tell me the truth."

"I shan't give up, ma'am, but I am afraid that all the chances are
against us!"

Bang! Bang! went Dick's shoulders against the panels. He was aching now
from his hopeless exertions.

Yet, every time that he paused he heard the crackling of the flames
outside. The sound told him that the woodwork had caught at last.

"Dick!"

"Yes, ma'am."

"I'm quite calm now."

"I'm glad to hear that, Mrs. Dexter."

"I've stopped thinking of myself, Dick. I know that my little Myra is
asleep. She'll suffocate, and won't wake up to know any pain."

"But where's your housekeeper?"

"She must have slipped out after she put Myra to bed. There's no hope
for us, Dick. We must go as bravely as we can. But, my poor boy, I can't
tell you how sorry I am that helping me has brought you to such a
plight."

"But you forget, Mrs. Dexter. Central will send a policeman. He will
find out what's wrong here and save us."

"Don't try to comfort me with false hopes, Dick. You and I both know
that the policeman can't get here in time to save us."

This had, indeed, occurred to Dick some moments before, but he wanted to
help Mrs. Dexter to keep her courage up as long as possible.

"Dick," called a subdued voice, "your mother taught you to pray?"

"Oh, yes, ma'am."

"Then you know how to pray now--the last chance you'll have."

"All right, then," young Prescott shot back to her, "and I'll keep on
working while I pray!"

Mrs. Dexter did not speak again. The smoke, passing into the closet, had
p