“It seems to me I smell smoke,” was Marion’s only answer. She went to the door and opened it cautiously. Slowly a great volume of smoke came rolling up the stairway. “The house is on fire! I am sure of it!” cried Marion, sharply. “Oh, Dollie, I wonder if Miss Allyn is in. Quick! Get your hat on dear, while I run and warn her.” Marion was up the stairs like a flash of lightning, and at the same moment there came cries and shrieks from every floor and landing. “The house is on fire!” echoed from every side, and in an instant the halls were crowded with half-dressed men and women. Great puffs of smoke came from all directions, and soon the frightened people could hear the woodwork snapping and crackling. There were shrieks and orders, some hysterical and some calm, but in the excitement no one seemed to know just what to do or which way to go to secure their safety. Marion pounded vigorously on Miss Allyn’s door, but could get no response, although she felt certain that her friend was within. The smoke choked and stifled her, but she continued her frantic efforts to arouse her friend, although all the other roomers had disappeared in the darkness. Suddenly new sounds fell distinctly upon her ear. The firemen had arrived; she could hear them racing up the stairs and shouting. Just as her strength seemed giving out Miss Allyn opened her door. There was a gust of wind from the open window, then a sudden burst of flame in the hallway. Marion staggered into the room and slammed the door behind her. In that awful moment she thought suddenly of Dollie. The house was old and burned as rapidly as tinder. In spite of the furious streams of water that hissed and spurted upon it the flames ate their way ravenously to the very roof, flashing their long tongues of flame out of every window and thrilling with sensations of horror the thousands of spectators who had gathered in the streets. One by one the roomers had been hurried out by the firemen, one of them carrying Dollie in his arms down the stairs and depositing her safely on the pavement. “My sister! Oh, my sister!” shrieked Dollie, shrilly. “Oh, save my sister Marion and dear Miss Allyn!” “Where are they?” asked a fireman who had heard her cry. “Third floor, back,” answered Dollie in an agonized whisper. The fireman shook his head. “No use,” he muttered sadly. “The rear is gutted. If it was front we might save them.” Suddenly a cry of terror went up from the crowd, then followed shouts of warning from a thousand throats, which were unintelligible to poor frightened Dollie. The fireman looked up from the hose he was tending. “My God, don’t jump!” he shouted, hoarsely. Dollie looked up and saw her sister standing on the sill of a third story window, her girlish form encircled by wreaths of smoke and long tongues of flame lapping the wall until they almost reached her. Spell-bound with horror, Dollie stood and gazed as a long ladder was run up by an agile fireman.