as she sat between her host and hostess, and Mr
William Howroyd seemed lost in thought.

It was the millionaire who broke the silence with one of the hoarse
laughs with which he generally prefaced his boastful remarks. 'See that
speck yonder? That's Balmoral, on t' hill; you can see it for twenty
miles round on a clear day like this. There's not another property in the
country that comes nigh it, though I say it as shouldn't.'

'Is that really Balmoral? Oh yes, of course I see it; they are making a
bonfire of weeds in the park,' exclaimed Horatia.

Mr Clay leant forward. 'Bonfire of weeds? I don't see any bonfire. Your
eyes must be sharper than mine,' he remarked; and then turning to Tom
Fox, he said, 'Can you see aught, Tom?'

'No, sir; leastways, not at Balmoral. That fire's far enough from us,'
replied the chauffeur.

'Fire?' cried Mrs Clay, starting nervously.

'Pshaw! Fire! It's a bonfire,' said Mr Clay very decidedly; adding, 'Put
on steam, Tom; we're crawling. I don't go in a motor to crawl, man.' But
he looked anxiously and uneasily in the direction of Balmoral, for he,
too, could now see a bonfire or something.

Mr William Howroyd had said never a word; but his face grew stern and
grave as he leaned forward.

Sarah looked at him, then towards Balmoral, and then she turned to him
again. 'It's not near the house, Uncle Howroyd; it's only a
bonfire.--What are you all so upset about?' she demanded; for Tom, who
was noted for his cautious driving, seemed to have caught the excitement,
and was driving faster than Sarah had ever known him do.

Mr Howroyd took field-glasses from his pocket, and fixing them to his
eyes, gazed earnestly in front of him; then he muttered something under
his breath. When he took the glasses away, he had an expression in his
eyes Sarah had never seen there before; but he did not answer her
question, and his niece could not imagine what had come to her cheery,
good-humoured uncle.

The car was going pretty fast, and Mr Clay seemed satisfied with the
progress they were making for the next few minutes, as well he might, for
it was above legal speed.

'Uncle Howroyd, we shall be fined, if we don't get killed first,'
observed Sarah, who was surprised that her uncle did not make some
protest against what she considered reckless speed.

Mr Howroyd did not seem to hear what she said, and she gave his arm a
tug; but at that moment a red tongue of fire shot up high above the trees
in B