“It is fairly suffocating in here,” said Lettice; “let us open the windows.” But the words were hardly out of her mouth before a shot struck the closed shutters, and the girl started back with an exclamation of alarm. “I think we shall have to stand the heat,” remarked her brother, quietly. And indeed it would have been a rash thing to open the shutters, for every now and then, from the ranks of the redcoats were sent stray bullets to fall harmlessly, since no one dared to open a door or window. “If only they don’t fire the town,” said William, as he walked the floor restlessly. Lettice, with a strained look on her face, sat with clasped hands in one of the farther corners of the room. At last Mr. Baldwin, more venturesome than the others, opened a shutter a little way and peeped out. “They seem flocking from every direction,” he said, as he drew in his head. “The streets are full of them, shouting, singing, firing on whomever they chance to see.” “What was that?” cried Lettice, springing to her feet. For from the direction of the Capitol came the sound of a rattle of musketry, followed closely by a second volley, both accompanied by the crash of glass. “Ah-h,” groaned William, “they have not the manhood even to spare that;” for through the clinks of the shutters could be seen the glare and smoke of an ascending fire. The Capitol was in flames. CHAPTER XVIII. _A Time of Dreadful Night._ The night grew darker and darker. Not one of the three in the house thought of sleep, for from time to time the crackle and blaze of some new fire, the roar of the devouring element, announced that one or another building had been sacrificed to the revengeful lust of the enemy. Up and down the streets swarmed the redcoated soldiers, ransacking, shooting wildly, without reason or conscience, at any who dared venture forth not uniformed as were themselves. With the advancing hours the gathering of a storm became more and more apparent. Sharp lightning vied with the rollicking flames. Deep growls of thunder drowned the sound of carousals, and the wind, rising to a fury, lashed and whipped the trees, tore away roofs, and shrieked as if in defiance. Soon down came the rain in torrents, in floods, and the flames, so eagerly mounting higher and higher, became less and less aggressive. In the battle between the two elements fire was vanquished. Save for the raging of the storm, there was now little noise in the streets, and the occupants of more than one closely shut house ventured to open the windows to let in the cool air which was sweeping away the intense heat of the day. “It is a merciful interposition of Providence,” declared William Hopkins. “I think we can take some rest and feel no alarm while the storm continues. Go to bed, Lettice.” And Lettice, feeling suddenly heavy-eyed and weary, now that the strain was relieved, obeyed and soon sank into a deep slumber.