Follow me!"
Thus led, the fickle crowd started to the aid of the firemen.
"Come with me, Danes," whispered Tom hoarsely, sternly. "Keep your
distance, however, or I shall lay violent hands on you."
Once out of the glare of light cast by the burning of the hotel, Tom
Reade pointed down a dark side street.
"There's your way, Danes," whispered Reade. "Skip! Be far from Paloma
by daylight--or nothing will save you."
"Do you consider me responsible for that fire?" faltered Danes.
"Hazelton and I went through that fire," Tom retorted sternly. "We had
a hard fight to save that woman and her babies, and were nearly choked
with the fumes of the coal oil with which the fire was kindled. I
couldn't swear, in court, Danes, that you started the blaze, but your
coat and your hands have the odor of coal oil."
Dane's face turned pale, his legs shaking under him.
"So, you see," continued Tom savagely, "you'll do well to escape before
anyone else notices the smell of coal oil on you.
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