pped; "I wish--I could say
what I would do to deserve that he should call me his friend;
but--it--can--never--be." They wondered what he would say next, there
was such a strange look in his eyes. They were about to ask him what he
meant, when everybody there was startled by a sudden cry in the
street--a sudden cry and an uproar that penetrated to the inn-yard--the
cry of "Fire!" and the trampling of feet. They were all out in a minute,
De Montfort first, and without his hat.

"It's your place, Raspall, as I'm a living sinner," said Clodd, forcing
himself to the front and commencing to run.

"Don't say so! Don't say so!" cried the baker, "for my missis is up at
the school makin' the cakes, and the man's down below settin' the batch,
and my little Bess is in bed this hour an' more. Oh, help! help! where's
that engine?" But the key of the engine-house had to be found, and the
wretched old thing had to be wheeled out, and the hose attached and
righted; and before all this could be done the flame, which seemed to
have begun at the back of Raspall's shop, had burst through the
shutters, and was already lapping the outer wall. It was an
old-fashioned house, with a high, rickety portico over the door, and a
tall, narrow window a good way above it.

At this window, where the flicker of the flame was reflected through the
smoke that was now pouring out and blackening the old woodwork, a
glimpse of a child's face had been seen, and Raspall was already in the
roadway wringing his hands and calling for a ladder.

"We must get her down from the top of that there portico," cried Clodd;
"but I'm too heavy. Here; who'll jump atop of my back, and so try to
clamber up?"

"Stand away there!" shouted a strong deep voice; and almost before they
could move aside a man shot past them like a catapult, and with one
bound had reached the carved cornice of the portico with his right hand.
The whole structure quivered, but in another moment he had drawn himself
up with the ease of a practised acrobat, and was standing on the top. It
was De Montfort.

The window was still far above him, and the glare within showed that the
fire had reached the room; but a gutter ran down the wall to the leaden
roof of the portico, and he was seen through the smoke to clasp it by a
rusty projection and to draw his chin on a level with the sill, to cling
to the sill itself with his arm and elbow, and with one tremendous
effort to sit there amidst the smoke and