Dashiell Hammett: "An Inch and a Half of Glory": The New Yorker Out of the open doorway and an open second-story window thin curls of smoke came without propulsion to fade in the air. Above, a child's face - a young face held over the sill with a suggestion of standing tiptoe - was flat against the glass of a window on the third floor. The face held puzzlement without fear. The man on Earl Parish's left saw it first. "Look!" he exclaimed, pointing. There's a kid up there! The others tilted their faces and repeated, "There's a kid up there." "Did anybody turn in the alarm yet?" a man who had just arrived asked. "Yes," several voices assured him, one adding, "The engines ought to be here any minute now." "He's all right, that kid," the man who had first seen the child praised his discovery. Ain't crying or nothing. Most likely he don't even know what's going on. The firemen will be here in a second. Ain't much use of us trying to do anything. They can get him out with their hook "n" ladders quicker than we could." Feet shuffled on the sidewalk and gazes left . . .