As he spoke he knew some was coming, for a live spark showed swift curving through the white fog where the road should be, racing like a great fuse to the heart of a mine. It must be a motor--Hirsch's most likely--Thank Heaven he was at least a man of action! Yes, that was his voice coining back as the light flashed, raced, disappeared. "For God's sake, be calm, sir, we've done all we could, we'll do all we can!" Not true! not true! except the last. "Helen!" he cried roughly, "your father--come!" Did she smile? He did not wait to make certain, but leaving her, dashed down the hill. Halfway he turned doubtfully, hoping she had followed him; but, already almost lost in the mist, he saw the lonely figure with the faint glow about it still seated on Betty Cam's chair. As he dashed on again a curious shuddering boom rolled through the fog. He wondered vaguely what it was, but his whole mind was set on that nebulous circle of flaming light. He was nearer now, the vignetting grew sharper, towers and balconies began to loom luridly, beset by tongues of flame. It must be all on fire--a wide sweep from end to end. Again that shuddering boom--what was it? My God! Could Helen be right again, and was it a ship in distress? As he ran, he counted ten, twenty, thirty, forty, fifty, fifty-five, sixty. A ship! a ship, indeed! Was there to be no ending or horrors? He was on the upward rise now. The aureole had gone. He could see the flames leaping while the crowd stood still. A large crowd, thank God! so they must be all out surely! He met a man running back, calling as he ran, "A ship in distress on the rocks--the life-boat--more help needed there, come!" "Are they all out?" he shouted, and the man nodded as he ran. A relief, indeed! He slackened speed, as more fisher-folk ran past him back to _their_ work, _their_ trade. All out! my God! what a relief! No! by Heaven! There was a sudden stir in the crowd, and high upon the furthermost seaword balcony, as yet untouched by the flames, a little white figure showed bending over the balustrade, and calling to some one below. The answer reached him, making him leap forward-- "All right, little lady! I'm coming!" There was a struggle ahead of him, a tall figure breaking loose from hands that would have held it back; and then his uncle---- "For God's sake," he shouted as he ran--"think of Helen!" The voice arrested Sir Geoffrey for a second, and Ned never forgot the look of that scared, kindly, distraught face he saw for a moment. "I am thinking of her," came the answer. Then the pause ended.