Mrs. Trescott's voice began to bubble. "Up--up--up--" She pointed at
the second-story windows.
Hannigan was already shouting: "Don't go in that way! You can't go in
that way!"
Trescott ran around the corner of the house and disappeared from them.
He knew from the view he had taken of the main hall that it would be
impossible to ascend from there. His hopes were fastened now to the
stairway which led from the laboratory. The door which opened from
this room out upon the lawn was fastened with a bolt and lock, but he
kicked close to the lock and then close to the bolt. The door with a
loud crash flew back. The doctor recoiled from the roll of smoke, and
then bending low, he stepped into the garden of burning flowers. On
the floor his stinging eyes could make out a form in a smouldering
blanket near the window. Then, as he carried his son towards the door,
he saw that the whole lawn seemed now alive with men and boys, the
leaders in the great charge that the whole town was making. They
seized him and his burden, and overpowered him in wet blankets and
water.
But Hannigan was howling: "Johnson is in there yet! Henry Johnson is
in there yet! He went in after the kid! Johnson is in there yet!"
These cries penetrated to the sleepy senses of Trescott, and he
struggled with his captors, swearing, unknown to him and to them, all
the deep blasphemies of his medical-student days. He rose to his feet
and went again towards the door of the laboratory. They endeavored to
restrain him, although they were much affrighted at him.
But a young man who was a brakeman on the railway, and lived in one of
the rear streets near the Trescotts, had gone into the laboratory and
brought forth a thing which he laid on the grass.