“Wait! Wait!” he murmured. “My money! I must get my money. And that jewelry! Crooked Nose got some of it, but I hid the most. He shan’t have it! I must save it. In the iron box! Get it for me! Don’t let Crooked Nose have it!” “He’s raving!” said Ned. “Don’t talk! Save your breath!” mumbled Jerry, doing just what he warned his chum against. “Catch hold and----” He did not finish, but nodded in the direction of the open window. The room was lighted by the reflection of flames outside. Ned understood, and, taking hold of the old man’s legs one of which seemed to be crippled, while Jerry supported his head, they carried him to the casement. Jerry got out first, while Ned held the old man, who kept muttering something about “Crooked Nose,” and “money and jewelry.” The boys paid little attention then, though the time was to come when the incident would be brought back to them in a startling manner. Once again on the ladder, Jerry called: “Now work him out till he hangs over my shoulder like a sack of flour, Ned. I can carry him down that way. He isn’t heavy. Hold him steady until I give the word.” “All right,” answered his chum, and then the two proceeded to save the old man. Ned shifted the burden until it rested on the window sill. The Frenchman was either unconscious now, or incapable of motion, for he was as limp and inert as Jerry could wish, and he was easier to handle in that way. Getting him over his shoulder, as he might a sack of flour, Jerry started down the ladder with his burden. Ned gave one last look around the room where the old man seemed to have lived all alone. There was a bed in one corner, and a stove in the other, with a few poor possessions. “I don’t see anything of Crooked Nose or a box of money, or jewelry either,” murmured Ned. “I guess he was out of his head through fear. I might take another look, but----” Just then there was a sound indicating that a large portion of the structure had fallen in. This was followed by such a burst of flame and smoke into the room that Ned was almost trapped. He made a dive for the window and got out on the ladder. Down it he hurried, after Jerry and his burden, and he was not a moment too soon, for an instant later the flames burst from the window in a volume sufficient to have overwhelmed any one who had been in the apartment. “Just in time,” murmured Ned, as he came to the ground, a few seconds after Jerry reached it. Willing hands took the burden of the old man, and he was carried to a place where volunteer nurses and a physician worked over him. By this time the tenement house was a mass of flames. The fire involved the end where the old Frenchman had lived, and there was no hope of saving it. The place was like a tinder-box, and soon after Jerry and Ned had left it the roof at that end fell in.