nsavoury
kind occupied the basement.

George Aspel at once suspected and made for this point, followed by Miss
Lillycrop, who bade Tottie remain in her kitchen, with the intention of
keeping her at once out of danger and out of the way.

"There's certainly fire somewhere, Pax; run, call the engines out," said
Aspel, descending three steps at a time.

Pax took the last six steps at a bound, and rushed along the street,
overturning in his flight two boys bigger than himself, and a
wheelbarrow.

The owner of the cellars was absent and his door locked. Where was the
key? No one knew, but George Aspel knew of a key that had done some
service in times past. He retreated a few steps, and, rushing at the
door with all his weight and momentum, dashed it in with a tremendous
crash, and went headlong into the cellar, from out of which came
belching flames and smoke. Re-issuing instantly therefrom with singed
hair and glaring eyes, he found Miss Lillycrop lying on her back in a
faint, where the fire and smoke had floored her. To gather her up and
dash into the street was the work of a moment. Scarcely less rapid was
the rush of the fire, which, having been richly fed and long pent up in
the cellar, now dashed up the staircases like a giant refreshed.

Meanwhile little Pax ran headlong into a policeman, and was collared and
throttled.

"Now then, young 'un!"

"Fire! station!" gasped Pax.

"All right, this way--just round the corner," said the man in blue,
releasing his captive, and running along with him; but the man in blue
was stout, middle-aged, and heavy. Pax outran him, saw the red lamp,
found the fire-station door open, and leaped through with a yell of
"_Fire_!" that nearly split his little lungs.

The personification of calmness in the form of a fireman rose and
demanded "Where?"

Before Pax could gasp the address, two other personifications of
calmness, who had been snoring on trestle-beds, dressed and booted, when
he entered, now moved swiftly out, axed and helmeted. There was a
clattering of hoofs outside. The double doors flew open, and the red
engine rolled out almost of its own accord. More brass helmets were
seen flashing outside.

"Are you sure of the address, youngster?" asked one of the imperturbable
firemen, settling his chinstrap more comfortably.

"Are you sure o' your own grandmother?" said Pax.

"You're cheeky," replied the man, with a smile.

"You make haste," retorted Pax; "three