The door of the room beside it was open.
In the room the gas was burning full head; on a chair was a pile of clothing.

He ran to the window, could not get it up, but smashed it with a chair, and stepped out on the landing of the fire-escape; below him was a crowd of men, with a sprinkling of women and youth, massed in a ruddy light.

Must he go down in his spectral night dress?
No--this side of the house was not yet on fire except at the further end; he would snatch on those clothes.

Which he did.

They fitted well enough, though a trifle loosely, and they were just a shade loud as to pattern.