Meanwhile, two of the Fire Brigade engines from stations nearer at hand than that of the Chief Office, are already here, and hard at work. A fourth engine arrives from the Chief Office close upon the wheels of the first—and now a fifth comes thundering up the mews. The Superintendent taking command of the whole, and having ascertained that all the inmates of the court and mews have been got out, gives orders for three of the engines to continue their efforts to overcome the fire, and at any rate to prevent it spreading to the houses in the square on each side of the one which is now so imminently threatened. He then directs his own engine and one other to be driven round to the front of the house in the square, so as to attack the enemy both in front and rear at the same time. The flames have just reached it—not a moment is to be lost! As he drives off, innumerable cries and exhortations seek to arrest his progress, and to make him alter his intentions. Several voices, louder and more excited than all the rest,—vociferating something about ‘saving her life’—cause him to pause, and prepare to turn, till, amidst the confusion, he contrives to elicit the fact that a stable cat has been unable to escape, and has darted out upon the burning roof of a loft—and, also, that Mrs. Jessikin’s laundry—but he listens no further, and gallops his engine round to the front of the house in the square, followed by shouts of excitement and several yells. The Fire-escape ladders of the Royal Society have already arrived here in front. All the inmates have been got out by the door—at least it is _said_ that all are out, by those white figures with faces as white, who, looking round them, really see nothing distinctly and know nothing as it is—having been awoke by the cries of ‘Fire,’ and not being quite sure if all this mad hubbub of people, flames, voices, and water-spouts, may not be some horrible nightmare vision.