Val jumped for the window and started to go. “Come on,” he shouted over his shoulder. He heard no answering footsteps, and looked back.
Eddie was struggling mightily to get into his trousers.
“Come on, Eddie!” he shouted again. “There’s no time for that.”
“I won’t go out without my pants,” shouted Eddie obstinately, struggling still harder to persuade the refractory garment to envelop his nether extremities. In his excitement he had them turned around wrong, and another few precious seconds were wasted in turning them around.
“Damn your respectability, Eddie!” shouted Val, knowing that in another instant the flames would be leaping into the room. By that time Eddie was inside his beloved pants. The red flames were already showing over the transom and licking in around the edges of the door.
The men hurried out on the balcony. Eddie carefully threw the suitcases over. “All right, chief,” he said, and motioned to the pillar.
Val dropped over the balcony, wrapped his legs around the smooth column, and slid down, acquiring thereby three splinters in inconvenient places. In an instant Eddie was standing beside him on the ground. Their automobile was still standing at the curb, where Val had placed it when he returned from the Pomeroy place. Eddie deposited the suitcases therein and cranked the machine up quickly. He drove it to a spot a hundred yards farther on, out of the line of danger.
In the meantime Val, in bathrobe and slippers, ran around to the front entrance to see whether there was anything he could do, any assistance he could give.
