The Mystery of the Invisible Dog - M. V. Carey [30]
“Mr. Murphy!” yelled Pete. He brushed away bits of broken glass from the window sill and swatted at the flaming curtains.
“Here!” Jupe had spotted a fire extinguisher in a niche near the stairway. He grabbed it and ran towards the blaze.
In an instant, spray from the extinguisher leaped to smother the fire in the curtains.
The flames died with a resentful hiss, and the boys and Elmquist clambered in through the window. Jupe aimed the fire extinguisher at a smouldering sofa which stood next to the window, and squirted the Christmas tree beyond the sofa for good measure.
The boys choked in the smoke-filled apartment. They shouted, but Murphy did not answer. Jupe and Pete crouched low to avoid the worst of the fumes and crept forward.
They found Murphy collapsed in the doorway between the living room and the bedroom.
“We’ve got to get him out, quick!” gasped Pete. He seized Murphy by an arm, turned him over, and slapped at his face.
Murphy didn’t stir.
“Drag him,” ordered Jupe.
Jupe took one arm and Pete the other. Bob ran over and grabbed the man’s feet.
Behind them, Sonny Elmquist choked and sputtered.
“Get out of here!” warned Pete. “You want to keel over, too?”
Elmquist got to the door and unlocked it.
Still crouching, the Investigators hauled the unconscious man towards the doorway, to the light and the fresh air.
Murphy was dead weight, as heavy as a sack of coal. The boys managed, though, and did it quickly. In seconds they had the stockbroker beside the pool, stretched out with the sun glaring down on to his pale face.
“Oh, dear!” said Mr. Prentice.
Alex Hassell stared. “Is he … is he … ?”
Pete had his ear to Murphy’s chest. “He’s alive.”
The firemen arrived then, with oxygen and an ambulance. They surged into Murphy’s apartment to put out the last smouldering sparks in the curtains and the upholstery.
The fire captain came within a few minutes and joined his men inside the apartment.
One of the ambulance men took the oxygen mask away from Murphy’s face when the stockbroker gasped, opened his eyes, and pushed at the thing with one hand.
“Okay, mister,” said the ambulance driver. “You got a dose of smoke, that’s all.”
Murphy tried to sit up.
“Take it easy,” said the ambulance man. “We’ll get you to the emergency room.”
Murphy looked as if he might protest, then sank back on to the flagstones.
“George, bring the stretcher,” said the ambulance driver to his partner.
Murphy lay quietly and allowed himself to be lifted on to the stretcher. The two ambulance men covered him with a grey blanket and started to take him away.
“Hadn’t someone better go with him?” said Hassell.
“My nephew,” said Murphy weakly. “I’ll send for my nephew.”
A moment later the ambulance left, its siren screaming.
The fire captain appeared in the doorway of the Murphy apartment. “Same old story,” he said. He held out a half-burned cigarette which was wet with foam from the fire extinguisher. “Fell asleep with a cigarette going. Cigarette dropped into the sofa, smouldered there, and then set the thing on fire. That started the curtains burning, and …”
“Lucky I saw it.” Sonny Elmquist was still in his bare feet. He was very pale.
“Lucky for the guy who lives here. He might have been killed. You caught it just in time. That Christmas tree in there is a real tree. If the flames had reached it, the whole place would have gone up in a minute.”
“He went to sleep with a cigarette?” said Jupiter.
“Lots of people do, son,” said the fire captain.
“But he had that special ashtray,” said Jupe. “He claimed it was foolproof—that he could leave a cigarette in it and not worry. The cigarette couldn’t fall out.”
“Anything can happen if a guy lights up while he’s sleepy,” advised the fire captain.
“And Mr. Murphy was sleepy,” pointed out Mr. Prentice. “He said he was going to sleep until noon. He must have thrown himself down on the sofa and dropped off.”
“But we found him on the floor headed for the bedroom. If he was sleeping on the sofa, why didn’t he just open the front door and walk out?” asked