Well, to get back to that fatal night. I saw the nurse in the corridor, so I told her that I would be home again in a few minutes, and not to tell Mrs. Black that there was a fire. I then grabbed my hat and ran down the street. I found it was not my store, but Stigler's. It was a most horrible, but fascinating, sight. The body of the store was blazing like a furnace. The bright red glow from it shone across the road and its light, dancing upon the faces of the crowd watching the fire, made an eerie sight. Little tongues of fire were already shooting out of the upstairs windows, while one side of the roof was well alight. Little running streams of flame kept playing backwards and forwards across it, and, even while I watched, there was another roar and part of the roof collapsed. I knew the fireman who was holding the horses' heads. "Some fire," I said to him in an undertone. "You bet it is," he replied curtly; "the beggar set it himself." "Nonsense!" I said incredulously. "The place has been saturated with gasoline. A fire couldn't catch like that in so brief a time. It will be a pretty serious matter for Stigler, believe me." My brain was in a whirl with the roar and crash of the fire, the light glowing all around. The knowledge that Stigler had fired his own store and the fact that I was the man he had openly blamed for his misfortune gave me an impression of deep apprehension. Yet somehow I felt sorry for Stigler, for, while he had all the time been competing with me, I had never competed with him; although, goodness knows, I probably would have done so had it not been for the wiser council of Barlow. While I stood there, wondering and anxious, I felt some one near me. Why, I don't know, but my feeling of apprehension was now accompanied by intense horror. I wanted to turn and see who it was--and yet I positively dreaded to. In a moment I heard a voice hiss in my ear: "I hope yer satisfied now. That's your work. You--you were the cause of that. You've been the ruin of an honest man, but yer sha'n't live to enjoy yer victory--" I turned and saw Stigler--his face chalky white--his blood-shot eyes wide and staring; a little saliva trickling from the corner of his mouth. Just then another crash came and a flame shot skyward. It played upon his face and gave him the appearance of some evil spirit. I put my hands up just as he leaped toward me. I felt his fingers tightening around my throat. I tried to shout, but couldn't--only beating my fists upon his face. It was over as quickly as it started, for the crowd instantly tore him from me. At last my scattered wits recalled what had happened, and I saw Stigler being marched away shrieking and laughing crazily.