He turned and
seized the burning fabric in his great hands, ripping it away from her
arm and crushing out the flames with unflinching strength.
"Don't be frightened!" he said. "It's all right. I've got it out."
"And what of you?" she gasped, eyes of horror on his blackened hands.
He smiled at her reassuringly.
"Well done, man!" cried Dick Culver. "It was like you to save her life
while we were thinking about it. Are you hurt, Hilary?"
"No," she said, with trembling lips. "But--but--"
She broke off on the verge of tears, and Dick considerately transferred
his attention to his friend.
"Let's see the damage, old fellow!"
"It is nothing," said Jacques, still faintly smiling. "Yes, you may see
it if you like, if only to prove that I speak the truth."
He thrust out one hand and displayed a scorched and blistered palm.
"Call that nothing!" began Dick.
Fletcher suddenly pushed forward with an oath that startled them all.
"I should know that hand anywhere!" he exclaimed. "You infernal, lying
impostor!"
There was an elaborate tattoo of the American flag on the extended wrist,
to which he pointed with a furious laugh.
"Deny it if you can!" he said.
Jacques looked at him gravely, without the smallest sign of agitation.
"You certainly have good reason to know that hand rather well," he said
after a moment, speaking with extreme deliberation, "considering that it
has had the privilege of giving you the finest thrashing of your life.
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