Now it was at this critical moment that I chanced to come upon the scene.

 

I had just ascertained from the brass plate on the door that Dr McTougall dwelt there, and was thinking what an ugly unromantic name that was for a pretty girl as I descended the steps, when Dumps’s first yell broke upon my astonished ears. I recognised the voice at once, though I must confess that the second yell from the interior of the watering-pan perplexed me not a little, but the hideous clatter with which it was associated, and the sudden bursting out of flames in the drawing-room, drove all thoughts of Dumps instantly away.

 

My first impulse was to rush to the nearest fire-station; but a wild shouting in the lobby of the house arrested me. I rang the bell violently. At the same moment I heard the report of a pistol, and a savage curse, as a bullet came crashing through the door and went close past my head. Then I heard a blow, followed by a groan. This was succeeded by female shrieks overhead, and the violent undoing of the bolts, locks, and chains of the front door.

 

Thought is quick. Burglary flashed into my mind! A villainous-looking fellow leaped out as the door flew open. I recognised him instantly as the man who had sold Dumps to me. I put my foot in front of him. He went over it with a wild pitch, and descended the steps on his nose!

 

I was about to leap on him when a policeman came tearing round the corner, just in time to receive the stunned Brassey with open arms, as he rose and staggered forward.

 

“Just so. Don’t give way too much to your feelings! I’ll take care of you, my poor unfortunate fellow,” said the policeman, as a brother in blue came to his assistance.

 

Already one of those ubiquitous creatures, a street-boy, had flown to the fire-station on the wings of hope and joy, and an engine came careering round the corner as I turned to rush up the stairs, which were already filled with smoke.

 

I dashed in the first door I came to. A lady, partially clothed, stood there pale as death, and motionless.

 

“Quick, madam! descend! the house is on fire!” I gasped in sharp sentences as I seized her. “Where is your—your (she looked young) sister?” I cried, as she resisted my efforts to lead her out.

 

“I’ve no sister!” she shrieked.

 

“Your daughter, then! Quick, direct me!”

 

“Oh! my darling!” she cried, wringing her hands.

 

“Where?” I shouted in desperation, for the smoke was thickening.

 

“Up-stairs,” she screamed, and rushed out, intending evidently to go up.

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