of the stage-door was standing in the entrance of his
little hutch, plainly perplexed. He was a slow thinker and a man whose
life was ruled by routine, and the events of the evening had left him
uncertain how to act.

"Wot's all this about a fire?" he demanded.

Jill's friend stopped.

"A fire?" He looked at Jill. "Did _you_ hear anything about a fire?"

"They all come bustin' past 'ere yelling there's a fire," persisted
the door-man.

"By George! Now I come to think of it, you're perfectly right! There
_is_ a fire! If you wait here a little longer you'll get it in the
small of the back. Take the advice of an old friend who means you well
and vanish. In the inspired words of the lad we've just parted from,
'op it!"

The stage-door man turned this over in his mind for a space.

"But I'm supposed to stay 'ere till eleven-thirty and lock up!" he
said. "That's what I'm supposed to do. Stay 'ere till eleven-thirty
and lock up! And it ain't but ten forty-five now."

"I see the difficulty," said Jill's companion thoughtfully.

"Well, Casabianca, I'm afraid I don't see how to help you. It's a
matter for your own conscience. I don't want to lure you from the
burning deck; on the other hand, if you stick on here you'll most
certainly be fired on both sides.... But, tell me. You spoke about
locking up something at eleven-thirty. What are you supposed to lock
up?"

"Why, the theatre."

"Then that's all right. By eleven-thirty there won't _be_ a theatre.
If I were you, I should leave quietly and unostentatiously now.
To-morrow, if you wish it, and if they've cooled off sufficiently, you
can come and sit on the ruins. Good night!"

II

Outside, the air was cold and crisp. Jill drew her warm cloak closer.
Round the corner there was noise and shouting. Fire-engines had
arrived. Jill's companion lit a cigarette.

"Do you wish to stop and see the conflagration?" he asked.

Jill shivered. She was more shaken than she had realized.

"I've seen all the conflagration I want."

"Same here. Well, it's been an exciting evening. Started slow, I
admit, but warmed up later! What I seem to need at the moment is a
restorative stroll along the Embankment. Do you know, Sir Chester
Portwood didn't like the title of my play. He said 'Tried by Fire' was
too melodramatic. Well, he can't say now it wasn't appropriate."

They made their way towards the river, avoiding the street which was
blocked by the crowds and the fire-engines.