e at the windows, have we, boys?" went on the fat hotel man.
"But you don't understand. I tell you he has been unable to sleep for several nights, and just before he left me early to-night he took a sleeping powder that he said would make him dead to the world for eight hours! He's up in his room yet, and will be lost unless some one goes and drags him out!" cried Mr. Smythe.
"Which is his room, Mr. Ten Eyck?" demanded an eager voice.
The stout hotel man looked at the speaker, who was none other than Jerry.
"You see that window over there at the end of the house, third floor--that's his room! But the stairs must be ablaze by now, boy! It would be suicide to think of trying to go up there!" he cried.
"Come on, Frank; we'll take a look in, anyhow!" shouted Jerry as he dashed off, followed by his chum, equally excited.
Still, Frank was ordinarily a cool-headed fellow, and accustomed to weighing chances somewhat before imperiling his life. In this case, of course, he knew
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