house, cost what it might, and have a serious talk with Frau Cordula concerning the present and the future. But when he had passed the outlying districts of the town, and was nearing his goal, he noticed an unwonted commotion in the streets--a running and shouting of men who at the hour of ten are usually sitting at home, or over their beer. He made inquiry and heard with alarm that a fire had broken out in Ghost Lane. And now he rushed on ahead of all the others, and as he reached the street and saw the glow of the fire lighting up the black houses, he made a way for himself by elbowing and pushing through the dense crowd that blocked the entrance. But the people stood idly by gaping at the spot whence the red blaze shot upwards, so that Philip had no difficulty in fighting his way through them to the seat of the mischief. His fearful surmise had not led him astray--the house of "The Unbelieving Thomas" was really on fire, and the flames, which until now had issued only from the porter's room, were just beginning to encircle the old entrance gate. The men who stood in front of it, in a half circle, pointed to the fiery spectacle with stupid indifference, or even with malicious grins. A few even gave vent to jeers: it was time that Satan at last laid hold of the old witchmonger by the collar; perhaps he had been trying to make gold, and a flame from hell had shot up out of the crucible and singed his head. It could not be expected that any good Christian would put out such a fire, and thus arrest the judgment of Heaven. As soon as Philip reached the house, and took in the situation, he shouted to the bystanders to get axes and break in the door and rescue those who lived back in the court. Not a foot stirred; only a pair of saucy tongues gave it as their opinion that it would be no harm if the whole pack of witches were burned, too,--they had deserved a funeral pile this long time;--a sentiment which was greeted with general laughter. The young man heard this with a throb of rage; and casting about him for some implement with which he could burst open the door, he seized a beam which the pavers had left lying at the edge of the sidewalk, and with superhuman exertion dragged the burden to the entrance that with it he might batter in the woodwork of the door, which was already ignited; when the rotten lock, as of a miracle, yielded of itself in the sockets, and the door swung slowly inward on its hinges. In the dark opening appeared a strange pair of human figures. Gundelchen was carrying her mother pick-a-pack through the smoke and showering sparks out into the open air.