Meantime, directly the alarm had been received at Chandos Street, it was, as is customary, sent on to the station of the superintendent of the district, and thence it was circulated to all the stations in the district, and also to headquarters. Captain Shaw was soon on the spot, and directed the operations in person. Of course, such a call as "The Alhambra Theatre alight!" would cause a number of engines to assemble; and in truth, they hurried from all points of the district: they came from Holloway and Islington, from St. Luke's and Holborn. But soon "more aid" was telegraphed for; and then engines came flying from Westminster and Brompton, from Kensington and Paddington, even from Mile End and Shadwell in the far east, and from Rotherhithe, Deptford, and Greenwich across the Thames. In rapid succession, they thundered along the midnight streets, waking sleepers in their warm beds, and paused not until the excited horses were pulled up before the furious fire. In fact, just within half an hour of the first call at Chandos Street station, twenty-four steamers were at work on the fire, and throwing water upon the flames from every possible point. Captain Shaw was assisted by his lieutenant, Mr. Sexton Simonds, and Superintendents Gatehouse and Palmer. The contents of the building were so inflammable, or the fire had obtained such a firm hold, that the enormous quantities of water thrown upon it appeared to exercise little or no effect. But at length, when the roof had fallen, the firemen seemed to gain somewhat on their enemy; and they turned their attention to the dwellings in Castle Street, and prevented the flames from spreading there. Finally, three hours after the outbreak, that is, about four in the morning, the fire was practically suppressed. Several of the surrounding buildings were damaged by fire and heat, and by smoke and water. In the dim wintry dawn, the scene that slowly became revealed presented a remarkable spectacle. Looking at it from the stage door, the blackened front wall could be seen still standing, though the windows had gone, and within yawned a huge pit of ruin. Scorched remains of boxes and galleries, dressing-rooms and roof, all were here; while huge girders could be seen twisted and rent and distorted into all manner of curious shapes, which spoke more eloquently than words of the fearful heat which had been raging. The value of strong iron doors, however, was demonstrated; for the paint-room had been shut off by these doors from the rest of the building, and the flames had not entered it. But to turn to other relics in the museum. Here lies a terrible little collection,--a part of a tunic, a belt-buckle, an iron spanner, part of a blackened helmet, and part of a branch-pipe and nozzle. They are the memorials of a man who was burnt at his post.