Then Fred contented himself with standing outside and looking on. “One is enough for that sort of work,” he said half audibly, and fell into conversation with the policeman, who stood with an anxious countenance beside him. “I hope as the gentleman won’t hurt himself,” said the policeman. “I hope it’s true as he’s Mr Crediton’s relation, sir. Very excited he do seem, about not much, don’t you think, sir? And them engines will be tearing down, running over the children before a man knows.” “Do you think there is not much danger, then?” said Fred. “Danger!” cried the man--“Lord bless you! if it was a regular fire don’t ye think as I’d have noticed it, and me just finished my round not half an hour since? But it’s hawful negligent of that fellow White. I knew as he’d been going to the bad for some time back, and I’m almost glad he’s catched; but as for fire, sir----” At this moment another puff of smoke, darker and heavier, came in a gust from the roof, and the policeman putting his eye to the keyhole, fell back again exclaiming vehemently, “By George! but it is a fire, and the gentleman’s right,” and sprang his rattle loudly. The crowd round gave a half-cheer of excitement, and up full speed rattled the fire-engines, clearing the way, and filling the air with clangour. At the same moment arrived a guilty sodden soul, wringing his hands, in which was a big key. “Gentlemen,” he cried, “I take you to witness as I never was out before. It’s an accident as nobody couldn’t have foreseen. It’s an accident as has never happened before.” “Open the door, you ass!” cried Huntley; and then the babel of sounds, the gleams of wild light, the hiss of the falling water, all the confused whirl of circumstance that belongs to such a moment swept in, and took all distinct understanding even from the self-possessed perceptions of Fred.