at the station smoking a short pipe, when a
man galloped up crying "Fire!"

"All right!" said Edward, giving a whiff.
"Where?"

"Lunatic Asylum. Drayton House."

Guess how long before the horses were to, and
the engine tearing at a gallop down the road, and
the firemen shouting "Fire! fire!" to clear the
way, and Edward's voice the loudest.

When the report of fire swept townward past
Mrs. Dodd, she turned: and saw the glow.

"Oh dear," said she, "that must be
somewhere near Drayton House." And full of the
tender fears that fill such bosoms as hers for
those they love, she could not go home till she
had ascertained that it was not Drayton House.
Moreover, Edward's was the nearest station;
she had little hope now of seeing him to tea. She
sighed, and retraced her steps, and made timid
inquiries, but could gain no clear information.
Presently she heard galloping behind her, and the firemen's
wild sharp cry of fire. An engine drawn by
two powerful brown horses came furiously, all on
fire itself with red paint and polished steel
gleaming in the lights: helmeted men clustered
on it, and out of one of these helmets looked a
face like a fighting lion's, the eyes so dilated, the
countenance in such towering excitement, the
figure half rising from his seat as though galloping
was too slow and he wanted to fly. It was
Edward: mother and son caught sight of one
another as the engine thundered by, and he
gave her a solemn ardent look and pointed
towards the fire: by that burning look and eloquent
gesture she knew it was something more than a
common fire. She trembled and could not move.
But this temporary weakness was followed by an
influx of wild vigour; she forgot her forty-two
years, and flew to hover round the fire as the hen
round water. Unfortunately she was too late to
get any nearer than the road outside the gates,
the crowd was so dense. And, while her pale
face and anxious eyes, the eyes of a wife and
a mother, were bent on that awful fire, the
human tide flowed swiftly up behind her, and
there she was wedged in. She was allowed her
foot of ground to stand and look like the rest—
no more. Mere unit in that mass of panting
humanity, hers was one of the thousands of
upturned faces lurid in the light of the now
blazing roof. She saw with thousands the hand
break the window and clutch the frame: she
gasped with the crowd at that terrible and piteous
sight, and her bosom panted for her fellow-
creature in sore peril. But what is this? The
mob inside utter a great roar of hope; the crowd
outside strain every eye.

A gleaming helmet overtops the outer wall.
It is a fireman mounting the great elm-tree in the
madhouse yard. The crowd inside burst in a
cheer. He had a rope round his loins; his face
was to the tree. He mounted and mounted like
a cat; higher, and higher, and higher, till he
reached a branch about twelve feet above the
window and as many distant from it laterally:
the crowd cheered him lustily. But Mrs. Dodd,
half distracted with terror, implored them not to
encourage him. "It is my child!" she cried
despairingly; "my poor reckless darling! Come
down, Edward; for your poor mother's sake,
come down."

"Dear heart," said a woman, "it is the lady's
son. Poor thing!"

"Stand on my knee, ma'am," said a
coal-heaver.

"Oh no, sir, no. I could not look at him for
the world. I can only pray for him. Oh, good
people, pray for us!" And she covered her face,
and prayed and trembled and sobbed
hysterically. A few yards behind was another woman,
who had arrived later, yet like her was wedged
immovable. This woman was more
terror-stricken than Mrs. Dodd: and well she might;
for she knew who was behind that fatai window:
the woman's name was Edith Archbold. The
flames were now leaping through the roof, and
surging up towards heaven in waves of fire six
feet high. Edward, scorched and half blinded,
managed to fasten his rope to the bough, and,
calculating the distances vertical and lateral he
had to deal with, took up rope accordingly, and
launched himself into the air.

The crowd drew their breath so hard it
sounded like a murmur. To their horror he
missed the window, and went swinging back.

There was a cry of dismay. But Edward had
never hoped to leap into the window; he went
swinging by the rope back to the main stem of
the tree, gave it a fierce spang with his feet, and
by this means and a powerful gesture of his
herculean loins got an inch nearer the window;
back again, and then the same game; and so he
went swinging to and fro over a wider and wider
space; and, by letting out an inch of cord each
swing, his flying feet came above the window-ledge,
then a little higher, then higher still, and
now, oh sight strange and glorious— as this
helmeted hero, with lips clenched and great eyes
that stared unflinching at the surging flames,
and gleamed supernaturally with inward and
outward fire, swang to and fro on his frail
support still making for the window—the heads of
all the hoping, fearing, admiring, panting crowd
went surging and waving to and fro beneath; so
did not their hearts only but their agitated
bodies follow the course of his body, as it rushed
to and fro faster and faster through the hot air
starred with snow-flakes and hail of fire. And
those his fellow-men for whom the brave fireman
made this supernatural effort, did they know
their desperate condition? Were they still alive?
One little hour ago Alfred sat on the bed, full
of hope. Every minute he expected to hear the
Robin put a key into the door. He was all
ready, and his money in his pocket. Alas!
his liberator came not: some screw loose
again. Presently he was conscious of a great
commotion in the house. Feet ran up and
down. Then came a smell of burning. The
elm-tree outside was illuminated. He was glad