"Now for it, Wayne!" shouted Brennan. "Back with you!"

With a dive I went under the piano. I heard the sliding doors shut
behind us, and almost with the sound was again upon my feet.

"To the stairs!" I panted. "Brennan, take the women to the stairs;
those fellows are not in the hallway yet, and we can hold them there a
while."

In our terrible need for haste, and amid the thick, swirling smoke
filling that inner room almost to suffocation, I grasped the woman
chancing to be nearest me, without knowing at the moment who she was.
Already the rifle-butts were splintering the light wood behind us into
staves, and I hastily dragged my dazed companion forward. The others
were in advance, and we groped our way like blind persons out into the
hall. By rare good fortune it was yet unoccupied, and as we took the
few hurried steps toward the foot of the stairs I found my arm was
encircling Celia Minor. The depth of despair within her dark eyes, and
the speechless anguish of her white face, swept for an instant the
fierce rage of battle from my brain.

"Do not fail us now, Miss Minor," I urged kindly, "we may yet hold out
until help comes."

"Oh, it is not that!" she cried pitifully. "But Arthur; where is
Arthur?"

"God knows," I was compelled to answer. "I saw him fronting the first
rush when it struck us. I think he went down, yet he may not be
seriously hurt."