Pudgy stumbled awkwardly, his hands still bound behind him. They hurried back through the old store, with the firelight beating brighter from behind them, and got through the window into the alley. To their left flames shot skyward with a roar from the Penn Hotel, showers of sparks sailing into the darkness. A glance told Wales that the Brotherhood had fires going along whole blocks of Mercer and South Jefferson Streets. "This way," he cried, starting down the alley that ran southward between the streets. He had Pudgy by the shoulder, but there was no need to make their terrified prisoner hurry. Wales put everything from his mind, but the necessity of escape from the holocaust of this latest flaming Atonement. And the new suspicion in his mind was so shocking that he didn't want to think of it until he had to. He knew the alleys and streets of Castletown, even in darkness. And they had light to guide them--more and more light throbbing up into the night sky behind them. He cut across Mill Street, and on up southeastward to a residential street of cottages. Here, he gave Martha his pistol and had her stand guard over Pudgy while he himself looked for a car. He found one, in the garage attached to the first cottage. He had to break through the house itself to enter the garage. The rooms were just as someone had left them, the furniture, the rugs, all the things they could not take with them in Evacuation, still in place. Again, Wales felt a pang. Someone had toiled and planned for this little house and the things in it. And now it would not even endure until the common Doomsday--it would perish in the senseless flames. He drove out into the street, and pushed Pudgy into the back seat. Taking no chances, he tied their prisoner's ankles too. Then, with Martha beside him, Wales drove fast up the steep streets southeast. "Jay--look!" she cried, when they reached a crest. She was looking back. He stopped the car, and looked back with her. The whole downtown section of Castletown blazed high toward the stars. The wind whirled sparks away in burning clouds, and a great pall of smoke lay toward them. Southward from the center of town moved a river of torches. And from those streets, only now just kindling, above the crackle of flames came the distant boom of the Brotherhood drums, and their rising and falling chant. Martha was crying. He put his arm around her, and turned her away from the sight. "It doesn't mean anything, Martha. It would have only lasted the few months till Doomsday, anyway." Yet he could understand her emotion. It had been a long time since he had lived in Castletown. But he wished his last look at the old town had not been like this. He turned toward Pudgy. "Now you can talk. Let's have it." Pudgy said sullenly, "I've already talked too much. You didn't believe me, anyway." Wales' face hardened. He said, "All right. The flames will reach this residential section in an hour. We'll leave you here."