Half a dozen blocks away to the westward they could see flames shooting from the windows of a warehouse. Its contents must have been highly combustible, for they were burning like chaff in a furnace draught. As they stood and watched the conflagration a second explosion occurred, and so close at hand that the ground seemed to rock beneath their feet. And with that Nanna's heart grew faint within her, for now she knew certainly that they were too late. The Shining One had spoken, and Doom was falling. Piers Minor looked at his companion with troubled eyes. What was this devil's work? "The Shining One," she whispered, and clung to his arm. "See how his tongues of fire lick up the dust of Doom." "But who is the Shining One?" demanded the young man, wonderingly. "Listen!" Deep under the crackling of the flames vibrated the diapason of the great dynamo. Piers Minor turned pale. "He speaks," whispered the girl. "And now look, look!" A little distance away stood one of the ancient telegraph-poles carrying a tangled mass of wire ends. The pole had been swaying dangerously in the rising gale; now with a loud crack it broke off close to the ground and fell so that the wires were brought into naked contact with a copper cable suspended on the opposite side of the street. Instantly the "dead" wires awoke to life, spluttering and hissing like a bunch of snakes; a cataract of yellow-blue sparks poured from the broken ends. "The tongues of fire," said Nanna. "You may have seen them devour a single tree in the forest or suck out a man's life with a touch, but to-night they are hungry and they are eating up the world." A terrifying conclusion that was not so far away from the truth. During the last few minutes the area of the conflagration had increased tremendously and the whole central portion of the city, including the Citadel Square, was now a vast furnace in which no life could possibly exist. For the moment the general direction of the wind had shifted, and the flames were not bearing down so rapidly as before upon the two fugitives. They would be in comparative safety for some time yet unless the gale veered back to its former quarter. "We can never get through to the north," said Piers Minor. "There is no necessity," returned Nanna. "I know of a wharf on the Lesser river where the shad-fishers keep their boats. We can reach it from here in a quarter of an hour." "Good," said Piers Minor, and waited for her to lead the way. Then, as she still held back, he went on, impatiently, "The wind may change at any moment, and it is foolish to wait." "It is my sister," explained the girl. "She is here in the city--a prisoner----" Her voice shook and failed her. "But what can we do?" asked the young man. "You do not even know--in Quinton Edge's house, you say? But that is a mile or more away, and the road is already blocked. It is impossible."