The shouts of men and the weeping of women and children rose from the dense crowd of hundreds of human beings, powerless in the face of this calamity. Rescue was, indeed, impossible. The people looked on stupefied while the fire spread rapidly. The gloomy background of a dark autumn night threw into relief the burning buildings, lit by fierce, red flames, which burst from all the openings like torches and played over the crowd gathered in the courtyard below. Of the main building in the shape of a horseshoe, the left wing was on fire in the fourth story, and the right on the ground floor. The workrooms in the middle part of the building were brightly lighted by gas-lamps, so that the power-looms could be seen moving quickly to and fro. The walls of the warehouses had almost disappeared behind a thick veil of smoke and flames. Now the roof of the left wing was ablaze; on the right the fire had reached the first floor, and the flames were bursting from the windows. A continuous murmur, scarcely human, rose from the crowd below. Suddenly it stopped. All eyes were turned towards the middle building, which was still untouched. On the second floor the shadow of a man was moving backwards and forwards among the looms. Wherever it stopped the room became lighter. The yarn, the wooden frames of the looms, the floors soaked with grease, caught fire with incredible rapidity. Within a few minutes the second floor was alight, and the shadow moved to the third floor, disappeared, and was seen again on the fourth. "Look! It is he!" A shout burst from the terrified crowd. Window-panes were blown out, and the glass fell clinking on to the pavement; floors collapsed under the heavy machinery. In the midst of the hellish noise, the rain of sparks and the clouds of smoke, the shadow of the man on the fourth floor was moving about like an inspector watching workmen. Sometimes it stopped at one of the many windows, and seemed to look out towards the house and the people. The roof of the left wing broke down with a terrific crash. Sheaves of sparks rose to the sky. Two stories of the cotton warehouse fell in. The air became unbearably hot. Some of the machines began to move with a grinding noise, and finally rolled over. The big wheel of the power-engine, encountering no more resistance, turned with a crazy rapidity, uttering a weird kind of howl. Walls collapsed; the chimney fell, and bits of masonry rolled towards the receding crowd. From the direction of the gasometer came the dull sound of an explosion. The gas went out; the middle part of the building was fully ablaze; the fire reigned supreme. Prosperous and full of life an hour ago, the mill was now a raging furnace, in which its owner sought and found his grave.... The wave had returned.... FOOTNOTES: [24] "Eagle." BILLING AND SONS, LTD., PRINTERS, GUILDFORD, ENGLAND * * * * * TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES: Fixed all missing or incorrect punctuation.