Neither Jew nor Greek : $b a story of Jewish social lifeGuttenberg, Violet
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Neither Jew nor Greek : $b a story of Jewish social life
Guttenberg, Violet
Jews -- England -- Fiction
Karne drew her cloak further around her shoulders. “What is the matter?”
he asked kindly. “Are you cold?”
“No,” she replied nervously. “A sort of half-presentiment of evil came
over me. I can’t explain it. But it doesn’t matter: it has gone now.”
“According to Major Denham’s theory it is the effect of the goose we
had for supper,” he rejoined laughingly; but even in the dim moonlight
he could see that she was unusually pale.
The brougham approached the Towers through the small gate at the north
side of the house, at which angle the studio was built. As it drove
through, the occupants detected a faint odour of burning. At the same
moment the noisy clatter of horses’ hoofs warned them of the approach of
some vehicle: and in the course of a few seconds a fire-engine dashed
rapidly past them, causing their horses to swerve sharply to the left.
Herbert let down the window and looked out. A thin line of smoke,
emitting sparks, was plainly discernible through the trees. Another bend
in the road gave him a closer view.
“Good heavens, Marjorie!” he exclaimed in horror, sinking back into his
seat. “It looks as if the Towers were on fire!”
It was the first time he had addressed her without prefixing her title,
but she was too excited to notice it just then. The Towers on fire meant
that the inmates, including Celia, were in peril: this thought was
uppermost in her mind.
Karne gave orders to the coachman to drive faster; and in a short space
of time they had arrived upon the scene.
The spectacle that met their gaze confirmed their fears. The Towers was
on fire; but as yet the studio only, and not the house, had been
attacked. A number of firemen were diligently plying the hose, their
endeavours being noisily encouraged by the excited servants.
Persuading Lady Marjorie to remain in the carriage, Herbert sprang out,
not waiting for the footman to attend at the door. Every pulse in his
body seemed throbbing, but with an effort he pulled himself together,
and set about making inquiries with as much calmness as he could muster.
The fire must have been smouldering since the early part of the evening,
but had broken out less than an hour ago. Directly the discovery was
made, Roberts had been sent off in the dog-cart to give the alarm and
fetch his master. The firemen had been able to remove some of the
paintings out of the studio, but those on the walls and floor were
blistered by the heat; and four of the larger ones were totally
destroyed.
They had got the fire well under, and were hopeful of extinguishing it
without much further damage. There was little danger of its attacking
the house on account of the stone passage and stairs.
So much Herbert Karne learnt from the eager servants. Then he went back
to the brougham to take Lady Marjorie into the house.
Celia, in a loose dressing-gown, with her hair flowing over her
shoulders, met them on the stairs.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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