ice that tells you."

It was dark, but he did not mind the darkness. He walked on, not
knowing where he was going, and time passed without his thinking Of
the lateness of the hour. He had forgotten his wife and his home; he
had forgotten Norah; he had forgotten all his pain.

Then the odd and unexpected character of an external object made an
impression sufficiently strong to rouse him from his reverie, and he
thought dreamily: "What is that? Why, yes, it is what I was asking
for--a blink of light."

Suddenly, straight in front of him, he saw the gleam again. What could
it be? Then something right ahead, in the darkness of the trees, a
bright flicker--as might be made by a man waving a lantern. There it
was again, but brighter than before, quite a long way off. And he
walked on faster.

Then, looking up, he saw a red glow in the sky, and he thought: "The
heath is on fire." He walked faster, saw a column of crimson smoke and
a great tongue of flame above the pine trees, and thought: "It is much
nearer than the heath. It must be right on the edge of the wood."

He ran now, and soon the track was brightly lighted and confused
sounds grew plain--shouting of voices, the galloping of a horse, the
clamorous ringing of a bell. The trees opened out and he was running
along the high ground above those broken fences, looking down at the
Orphanage gardens, at men clustered like black ants, at solid
buildings that seemed to send forth sheets, lakes, and seas of flame.

He rushed down the slope, burst through wooden barriers and leafy
screens, shouting as he came. In the glare on the upper terraces there
were many people--men, women, children; some of the men vainly
endeavoring to fix and work unused hose-pipes; others dragging away
furniture, curtains, carpets that lay in heaps near the central hall;
the greatest number of them struggling with ladders, advancing and
recoiling in front of the low block at the further end of the
building.

"Are they all out?" shouted Dale. "Have they all been got out?"

Terror-stricken voices answered as he passed. "There's seven they
can't get at.... Seven have been left.... They're the little ones."

And running in the fiery glare, he thought: "Yes, mercy has been
vouchsafed me. This is my chance."

All things were plain to him; there was nothing that he could not
understand. This fire must have broken out in the low block he had
passed, and at first it seemed insignificant; as a precaut