Mrs. Redmond uttered no further reproof now. It was a time for action. "Martine," she cried, "we must go for help." But Martine made no reply. Already she was far on her way downstairs. All the people in the house were now evidently aware of the fire. Doors were slamming, and she heard steps and voices ahead of her. In spite of her difficulty in making her way through the thick smoke, Martine soon found herself near the broad front door. Here two or three men were standing. "Please help me quickly," cried Martine, breathlessly; "my friends are in a room in the wing, and cannot open the door. Come, I will show you." Leading the way, Martine was soon at Amy's door again. She could see no one, for there were no lights in the hall, but she recognized Mrs. Redmond's voice. "I found a pair of large scissors in my valise; perhaps with them the lock can be pried open." One of the men who had come with Martine was already pounding on the panels of the door to learn where it could most easily be broken in. After one ineffectual effort to pry open the lock, the other one had thrown down the scissors that Mrs. Redmond had handed him. Both of these things had occupied seconds rather than minutes,--seconds that seemed hours to Martine and Mrs. Redmond,--and then, before further violence had been done to the door, there was a click, a turn of the lock, and Amy and Priscilla stood before the four others. Their appearance showed that they had indeed dressed hastily, but they made no apologies as they hurried on. When they reached the street Mrs. Redmond drew a breath of relief. "Oh, Amy," she cried, "how could you be so careless?" "I took the key from the door absent-mindedly, and had set my travelling-bag on it. I'm thankful enough that I found it, for the door might have been hard to break in." "Look, look!" cried Priscilla, excitedly. "We are out none too soon." As she spoke flames were bursting from the wing of the house that they had so lately left, and men and women were pouring in and out of the main building, removing furniture, pictures, and clothes. "Let me count you," cried Mrs. Redmond. "I am not sure--" "It's Martine, mamma,--she is not with us. Where did she go?" [Illustration: "After one ineffectual effort to pry open the lock, the other one had thrown down the scissors."] "Perhaps she has gone back to her room for her things. She had left everything behind when she came to rouse us." "Impossible! She would not be so foolish. The fire is close to her room. Here are the engines. Why were they so long in coming?" "Where is Martine? We must find her." "No, no, Amy," and Mrs. Redmond laid her hand on her daughter's arm. "But, mother, if she had not called us--" "Yes, if she had not called us we might be in there now. She did not think of herself, and now she has gone to her room for some of her things."