It could now be seen that even in that brief space of time the fire was
rapidly spreading. The blaze first seen had increased in size, and
flames were now issuing from other windows on that floor. The fire
seemed to be in the third story. Luckily, the hotel stood on a corner,
away from other buildings.
People were now pouring in a stream from the exits. Merriwell looked
again toward the window where Ready had been seen.
"Ready will come right across here as soon as he gets down," he said. "I
suppose he is all right, but the fire is on that floor!"
But Ready did not appear. Other fire-engines arrived and began their
work. Firemen swarmed everywhere. But the fire increased in intensity in
spite of this fight against it. The hotel appeared to have emptied
itself of its occupants.
And still Jack Ready did not come. Willis Paulding stumbled across the
street, white and shaky. His hair and eyebrows were singed, his
Lunnon-made clothes were wet and limp, and he was terribly frightened.
"Merriwell," he gasped, "Jack Ready is up there!"
Merry started. A fear that such might be the case had been growing on
him.
"How do you know?" he asked.
Paulding forgot his English drawl in his fright and excitement.
"I saw him!" he admitted. "He was trying to get Lew Veazie down the
stairs when he fell.
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