Boy's Cinema (1930-31)

Every Tuesday whole buildin' will" be a mass o' flame before it's many minutes older." "Sure, the brigade's gonna have a tough time gettin' this blaze under. Look at them ugly red an' yellow tongues climbin' up the windows. They'll OAt their way through floor after floor." "It's lucky everybody's out.'' The Snare of the Flames. THE 'oeauty ijarlour of "Monsieur Henri " was an isolated establish- ment on the top floor, where many of the suites had not been rented. Consequently, during the precious minutes in which the other stories were being evacuated, Monsieur Henri and his fair client remained ignorant of their peril. In that lofty room no suspicion of the fire reached them for some time, nor did the clamour of the crowds in the street far below attract their attention, for it w^as merged in the distant rumble of the city's traffic. Juno had called by appointment to have her hair trimmed, and, his skilful hands busy with the clippers, Monsieur Henri kept up the usual trivial con- versation that he employed while attend- ing to his wealthy customers. He was a dapper man who had been born in Brooklyn, and his knowledge of France was confined to the perfumes imported from that country. But l.e had thought it good business to assume a foreign name and affect a slight accent'. • " I think my hair could do with a wave, too." Jime said presently, break- ing in on him as he was discussing the v.eather. "Certainly, madume," the beauty specialist rejoined, and, heating a pair of curling-tongs, he set to work. He was putting the finishing touches to her hair, wlien June raised her head end sniffed at the air concernedly. "There's a smell of burning," she murmured. "You're not singeing my hair, are you ?" BOY'S CINEMA "But ,no, madamo," Monsieur Henri protested. "I am certainly not singeing your hair," June continued to sniff at the air doubtfully. She was not satisfied with the beauty specialist's assurance. She was quite positive, at any rate, that something was burning. "Are you sure you haven't overheated those tongs?" she persisted. Monsieur Henri exchanged a glance with her in the mirror before which she was sitting. His expression was mildly indignant and somewhat rejiroachful. "Madame," he said, "you do me an injustice. You have surely forgotten that I am an artist in my profession— one of the most highly patronised in all San Francisco. The best people in Society come to me." "I'm sorry, M'sieur Henri!" June apologised, slightly amused by his tone. "Bur I really did think-that something was burning." Monsieur Henri accepted that apology and was about to resume work with the tongs when he, too, detected what June's more sensitive nostrils had already traced. He paused and looked round dubiouslj". "Madame," he declared, "there is a smell of fire, but there is nothing here that could be burning." He laid aside the tongs and went to the door. June saw him open it and step out into the corridor. Monsieur Henri walked towards the lift-shaft and the staircase well. As he approached it he was startled to see formidable volumes of smoke rising, and he moved on at .'i more hesitant pace. Then, as he reached the top of the stairs, he felt a blast of heat, and, to his horror, he found himself looking down into a writhing mass of flame. He was dumbfounded for the instant, but a sudden instinct of panic sent him running back to his beauty salon. "The whole building's ablate!" he squealed. "Run for it! There's not a second to lose !" He wheeled again to dash along the corridor, and with that June sprang to her feet. Her lovely face had paled, and her eyes were filled with terror. i "Don't leave me !" she cried. "I " But Monsieur Henri was thinking of his own skin now. j "It's everyone for himself," he shrilled, and, "pulling his coat over his head, he sped to the staircase and plunged through the inferno. ' June ran after him, gained the head of the stairs, and stumbled down to- wards the next floor. But as the cruel tongues of fire wrapped about ' her slender form she recoiled with a sob of mingled pain and despair. Her flimsier clothes could not protect her from the flames even for an instant, arid she know that she could never fight her way clear. A wave of smoke rolled over her. It tortured her throat and lungs, and she was racked with a fit of coughing. Slie retreated step by step, till all at once she found herself back on the threshold of the beauty parlour. With a piteous little mcKin she stumbled into the room and slammed the door. A wliiff of smoke lingered ab9ut ihe salon. She seemed to hear the roar of the blaze that Jiad been climbing relent- lessly up the stairs to envelop the top floor as it liad enveloped the others. June tottered to the window and flung up the sash. As she looked down sFie saw the masses of people in the street, and she screamed frantically for help. Whether her cries reached them sho could not tell, but suddenly someone caught sight of her, and next monSeiit hundreds of faces were u])lifted toward.'! her. "Look, up at the top floor window," ro,se the cry. "There's a girl there," j It was a cry that caused James Madi- son to raise his glance. Standing among those who liad escaped from the prerni.ses ho ,sa\v the head and shoulders of the girl who had been trapped by the flames, and a hoarse shout broke from his lips, "It's my daughter!" he jerked, and with an impetuous rush he made for the entrance to the building, whence the smoke was pouring in dense, suffocating volumes, IV'foie h( could reidi the entrance thiei oi four member-, of his own staflE M 171 d him Bob produced a rough formula of his Qre-flghting process and attempted to explain it. September 5tb, 1931.