he heat was unbearable; Murky's clothing was
already ablaze in spots. On the stand was a can of water, left by the now
dead man.

In a twinkling he poured it over himself, seized the suit-case already
scorched, and dashed for an open closet door. In this closet was a
displaced trap door. Murky knew that under this was the hallway leading
to the cellar stairs. In the cellar might be present safety--if he
could make it. The clubhouse had caught from the roof. Probably the cellar
was not yet reached. All this in less than no time, as he darted to the
closet, kicked aside the trap which Grandall had overlooked, and jumped
boldly down to the floor he had glimpsed beneath.

Murky was strong, tough, and such a leap was easily made. Already the
lower rear rooms were blazing, and he had barely time to rush through the
advancing flames to reach the stair door. Jerking it open, he stumbled
through, hurrying down into the obscurity below. It was not so dark as
usual, for the wide flare of the burning house above lighted up the cellar
dimly, also showing to Murky the gleam of a cellar window off to one side,
the last side to be encroached upon by the fire.

There were smoke and sparks outside, while sundry sparkles overhead told
him that the floors might shrivel into flames at any minute. In fact
crumbs of blazing embers already were filtering down. In the light thus
afforded, he saw some tow-bagging piled on one of the boxes that littered
the cellar floor. At the same time a jingling thud announced that some
of the coin had fallen from the scorched suit-case.

At once he seized the bagging, picked up the chamois-bag of coin and
wrapped it round the leather case, including the escaped coin. With a
rock from the crumbling wall he broke what remained of the window and
crawled through.

Fortunately for him he was on the opposite side from the balcony where
the amazed group on the raft and skiff were still watching, although they,
too, were on the point of quitting.

Which way should he go? The rain was beginning to fall though the woods
were still burning. But, close by, a small lagoon began. It was a part of
the water that separated the point on which the clubhouse was built,
making it an eligible site for the purposes of the Longknives when they
erected the house. It offered Murky a chance and he jumped at it as a
drowning man will dash for a straw. The water was shallow, yet deep enough
to keep off much of the heat as he waded