The City of Fire

e, but it seemed to grind loudly upon the cement floor of the cellar, and he stopped frozen in tensity again to listen. After a second he heard a low growl as if someone outside the hous

dead man or a doped man was supposed to be. He cast one swift glance back at the cobwebby window through which he had so recently arrived, and longed to be back again, out in the open with the bells, the good bells sounding a call in his ears. If he were out wouldn't he run? Wouldn't he even leave his old b

their pursuers? His heart sank. If that were so he must get out somehow and go after the police, but that should be his last resort. He didn't want to get any one else in this scrape until he knew exactly what sort of a scrape it was. It wasn't square to anybody-not

kept dragging down to one side and threatening to hit against the steps. But he felt that milk was essential to his mission. He dared not go without it. The tools were in his other pocket. They too kept catching in his sleeve as he moved cautiously. At last he drew himself to the top step. There was a crack of light under the door. Suppose it should be locked? He could saw out a pane

n Aunt Saxon's house, but before his mother died Billy Gaston had lived in the city where they always had back stairs. That door before him likely led to the dining-room. He took a careful step, pushed the swing door half an inch and satisfied himself that was the kitchen at the back. No one there. Another step or two gave him the same assurance about the dining-room and no one there. He surveyed the distance to the foot of the back stairs. It seemed long. What he was afraid of was that light space at the foot of those stairs. He was almost sure there was a hall straight through to the front door, and he had a hunch that that front door was open. If he passed the steps and anyone was there they would see him, and yet he wanted to get up those stairs now, right away, before anything more happened. It was too still up there to suit him. With trembling fingers he untied his shoe strings, and slipped off his shoes, knotting the strings together an

ee the foot board of a bed, the head of which must be against the opposite wall The door was open about a third of the way

ront of the door and flattened himself against the wall. He knew he had made a slight noise in his going, and he felt

ranging some things out of a basket on a little stand by the bed. Billy applied an eye to the crack of the door and got a brief glimpse. Then cautiously he put out his stubby fingers and grasped that key, firmly, gently; turning, slipping, little by little, till he had it safe in his possession. Several times he thought Link turned and looked toward the door. Once he almost dropped the key as he was about to set it free from the lock, but his anxious fingers were true to their trust, and the key was at last drawn back and sa

could manage to slide the sash down. He turned the catch and applied a pressure to the upper sash, but like most upper sashes it would not budge. If he strained harder he might be able to move it but that would make a noise and spoil his purpose. He looked wildly round the room, with a feeling that something must help him, and suddenly he discovered that the upper sash of the other window was pulled all the

tep. He had vanished and was far away, breaking through the underbrush, stumbling, and cutting himself, getting up to stumble again, he hurled himself away from that haunted spot. Ghosts were nothing to Shorty. He could match himself against a spirit

and darted like a winged thing to the head of the stairs, where he took the flight at a

watching his victims take their hurried leave. And lest they should dare to watch and return before he was ready for t

g a big bolt on the inside. With a hasty examination of the lower floor that satisfied him that he was sa

's heart burst into a tear. A tear! Bah! He brushed it away with his grimy hand and went over to the bed, rolling the inert figure toward him till the face was in plain v

ar

ad lay Mark Carter, his beloved idol

mself. If Cart was dead he would have to hang himself! Here in this house of death he must hang himself, like Judas, poor fool. And he wo

its anxiety. He tore open Mark Carter's coat and vest, wrenched away collar, necktie and shirt, and laid h

im gently

bird was singing in a tree enough to split his feathered throat, and the sweet air fu

e and broke sending out a pungent odor. But Billy crept close to his friend once more and began rubbing his hands and forehead and crooning to

oused a towel he found on the washstand into it and slopped it over Mark's face. He went through all the manoeuvres they use on the footba

ally swallowed. But it was a long time, and Billy began to think he must go for the doctor, leave his friend here at the mercy of who would come and go after all. He had hoped he might keep his shame, and Mark's capture from everybody, but what was that verse the teacher had taught them once

, sighed and drew another. Billy pressed the glass to his lips and

closed his eyes and seemed to go away again. But Billy, with

nk it. We gotta get them dirty bu

d roused a little. Presently he drank some more, nea

he'ped ya?" he asked anxiously, "We gotta get

this house before the two keepers returned, perhaps with Pat or some other partner in their crime. Patiently he began again, and gradually by degrees he propped Mark u

ed Billy when he was out of doors. But it was a work of time to get Mark across the clearing and down in the undergrowth out of sight of the house, where the

nce of thought, "I gotta get you on my mac

st as you say," murmure

ged to put him astride the wheel; but it was tough going and slow, over rough places, among und

he was doing. It was high noon before they reached Unity and betook themselves to the drug store. While Mark asked for

wered him after a little

ded eyes dropped shut with anxiety and weariness. But the chief's voice answered promptly, "yes, we got yer car a

in Unity with the guy that owns the car. Mark Carter. You know him. Sure! Mark! Well, he's all in, an' he wants his car to get home. He's been up all night and he ain't fit to walk. He wants me to come over and bring his car

winds touched him pleasantly as he passed, the sunshine had a queer reddish look to his feverish eyes, and the birds seemed to be singing in the top of his head, but he was happy. He might go to sleep on the way and roll off his wheel, but he should worry! Mark was safe. He ha

mountain. He had heard them talking about going there, he said. He got away without a mention of the real happening at Pleasant View or a hint that he had had anything to do with the stealing of the car. Billy somehow was gifted that way. He could shut his mouth always just i

he after glow of sunset, beneath the evening star, as Mark and

ey for the evening service, and of the one who would be playing them, and each was trying t

remaining at the parsonage as if it were a common hostelry, and he and his wife had much perplexity to know just what to do. And now as he issued quietly forth from a side door

judgments, yet staunch sincerity, approached him. The minister had grown to expect something unpleasant whenever this man sought him out, and to-night he

been a good day, hasn't it?" he

we must act at once in this matter! It is most serious, most serious! I've just called a meeting of the session to be held after church, and I've sent out for this Mark Carter to be present. He must

minister and his voice was too unsteady

ve a worldly life. It is time he was cast out from our midst and become anathema. And now, it is quite possible he may be tried for murder! Have you heard what happened last night, Mr. Severn? Did you kn

er, answering q

. We are going into the church to worship God. We will wait at least

red and driving steadily along the road, turned t

de you put up