Part 45 (1/2)

At the same time the first-floor windows of the hotel were illumined by an infernal glare. All round her there was lurid light, setting everything in sharp relief. The face of the man who held her was suddenly revealed; and it was her father's.... She had left him inside the building and now ... She was a.s.sailed with a terrifying fear that she had gone mad. In a frenzy she wrenched herself free; but only to be caught in other arms.

A voice she knew said soothingly: ”There, Miss Searle--you're all right now....”

Staff's voice and, when she twisted to look, Staff's face, friendly and rea.s.suring!

”Don't be afraid,” he was saying; ”we'll take care of you now--your father and I.”

”My father!” she gasped. ”My father is in there!”

”No,” said Iff at her side. ”Believe me, he isn't. That, dear, is your fondly affectionate Uncle Arbuthnot--and between the several of us I don't mind telling you that he's stood in my shoes for the last time.”

”But I don't,” she stammered--”I don't understand--”

”You will in a minute,” Staff told her gently. At the same time he lifted his voice. ”Look out, Iff--look out!”

He strove to put himself between the girl and danger, making a s.h.i.+eld of his body. But with a supple movement she eluded him.

She saw in the doorway of the burning house the man she had thought to be her father. The other man, he whose daughter she really was, had started to run toward the veranda steps. The man in the doorway flung up his hand and, clear and vicious above the crackling of the flames, she heard the short song of a Colt automatic--six shots, so close upon one another that they were as one prolonged.

There was a spatter of bullets in the sandy ground about them; and then, with scarcely an appreciable interval, a second flutter of an automatic.

This time the reports came from the pistol in Iff's hand. He was standing in full glare at the bottom of the veranda steps, aiming with great composure and precision.

The figure in the doorway reeled as if struck by an axe, swung half-way round and tottered back into the house. The little man below the veranda steps delayed only long enough to pluck out the empty clip from the b.u.t.t of his pistol and slip another, loaded, into its place. Then with cat-like agility he sprang up the steps and dived into the furnace-like interior of the hotel. A third stuttering series of reports saluted this action, and then there was a short pause ended by a single shot.

”Come,” said Staff. He took her arm gently. ”Come away....”

Shuddering, she suffered him to lead her a little distance into the dunes. Here he released her.

”If you won't mind being left alone a few minutes,” he said, ”I'll go back and see what's happened. You'll be perfectly safe here, I fancy.”

”Please,” she said breathlessly--”do go. Yes, please.”

She urged him with frantic gestures....

He hurried back to the front of the hotel. By now it was burning like a bonfire; already, short as had been the time since the overturning of the lamp, the entire ground floor with the exception of one wing was a roaring welter of flames, while the fire had leaped up the main staircase and set its signals in the windows of the upper story.

Iff was standing at some distance from the main entrance, having pushed his way through the tangle of undergrowth to escape the scorching heat that emanated from the building. He caught sight of Staff approaching and waved a hand to him.

”Greetings!” he cried cheerfully, raising his voice to make it heard above the voice of the conflagration.

”Where's Nelly?”

Staff explained. ”But what about Ismay?” he demanded.

Iff grinned and hung his head as if embarra.s.sed, rubbing a handkerchief over the smoke-stained fingers of his right hand.

”I got him,” he said simply.

”You left him in there?”