The Safety Curtain | Page 2

that
retreat behind the scenes was impossible, and in another moment or
two that falling curtain would cut off the only way left.
But suddenly, before the dancer's hunted eyes, a man leapt forward. He
held up his arms, making himself heard in clear command above the
dreadful babel behind him.
"Quick!" he cried. "Jump!"
The wild eyes flashed down at him, wavered, and were caught in his
compelling gaze. For a single instant--the last--the trembling, glittering

figure seemed to hesitate, then like a streak of lightning leapt straight
over the footlights into the outstretched arms.
They caught and held with unwavering iron strength. In the midst of a
turmoil indescribable the Dragon-Fly hung quivering on the man's
breast, the gauze wings shattered in that close, sustaining grip. The
safety-curtain came down with a thud, shutting off the horrors behind,
and a loud voice yelled through the building assuring the seething
crowd of safety.
But panic had set in. The heat was terrific. People fought and struggled
to reach the exits.
The dancer turned in the man's arms and raised a deathly face, gripping
his shoulders with clinging, convulsive fingers. Two wild dark eyes
looked up to his, desperately afraid, seeking reassurance.
He answered that look briefly with stern composure.
"Be still! I shall save you if I can."
The dancer's heart was beating in mad terror against his own, but at his
words it seemed to grow a little calmer. Quiveringly the white lips
spoke.
"There is a door--close to the stage--a little door--behind a green
curtain--if we could reach it."
"Ah!" the man said.
His eyes went to the stage, from the proximity of which the audience
had fled affrighted. He espied the curtain.
Only a few people intervened between him and it, and they were
struggling to escape in the opposite direction.
"Quick!" gasped the dancer.
He turned, snatched up his great-coat, and wrapped it about the slight,

boyish figure. The great dark eyes that shone out of the small white
face thanked him for the action. The clinging hands slipped from his
shoulders and clasped his arm. Together they faced the fearful heat that
raged behind the safety-curtain.
They reached the small door, gasping. It was almost hidden by green
drapery. But the dancer was evidently familiar with it. In a moment it
was open. A great burst of smoke met them. The man drew back. But a
quick hand closed upon his, drawing him on. He went blindly, feeling
as if he were stepping into the heart of a furnace, yet strangely
determined to go forward whatever came of it.
The smoke and the heat were frightful, suffocating in their intensity.
The roar of the unseen flames seemed to fill the world.
The door swung to behind them. They stood in seething darkness.
But again the small clinging hand pulled upon the man.
"Quick!" the dancer cried again.
Choked and gasping, but resolute still, he followed. They ran through a
passage that must have been on the very edge of the vortex of flame,
for behind them ere they left it a red light glared.
It showed another door in front of them with which the dancer
struggled a moment, then flung open. They burst through it together,
and the cold night wind met them like an angel of deliverance.
The man gasped and gasped again, filling his parched lungs with its
healing freshness. His companion uttered a strange, high laugh, and
dragged him forth into the open.
They emerged into a narrow alley, surrounded by tall houses. The night
was dark and wet. The rain pattered upon them as they staggered out
into a space that seemed deserted. The sudden quiet after the awful
turmoil they had just left was like the silence of death.

The man stood still and wiped the sweat in a dazed fashion from his
face. The little dancer reeled back against the wall, panting desperately.
For a space neither moved. Then, terribly, the silence was rent by a
crash and the roar of flames. An awful redness leapt across the darkness
of the night, revealing each to each.
The dancer stood up suddenly and made an odd little gesture of
farewell; then, swiftly, to the man's amazement, turned back towards
the door through which they had burst but a few seconds before.
He stared for a moment--only a moment--not believing he saw aright,
then with a single stride he reached and roughly seized the small,
oddly-draped figure.
He heard a faint cry, and there ensued a sharp struggle against his hold;
but he pinioned the thin young arms without ceremony, gripping them
fast. In the awful, flickering glare above them his eyes shone
downwards, dominant, relentless.
"Are you mad?" he said.
The small dark head was shaken vehemently, with gestures curiously
suggestive