“Do not alarm yourself, Mr. Grahame,” replied Nathan Gomer, with the coolest self-possession. “I merely returned to say, after a brief reflection, that I have decided on entertaining your proposals. You had better, therefore, put your solicitor in connection with mine. Good morning, Mr. Grahame.” Nathan’s eye glittered on Chewkle for an instant, so as to make that person feel most uncomfortable. Then he moved swiftly and noiselessly out of the room. Mr. Grahame, pale as death, sank back in his chair. Mr. Chewkle gazed in the direction which Nathan Gomer had taken, and ejaculated-- “Well, I’m blowed!” CHAPTER V.--THE CONFLAGRATION. The wild confusion, and the swarthy glow Of flames on high, and torches from below; The shriek of terror and the mingling yell. ***** He climbs the crackling stair--he bursts the door, Nor feels his feet glow, scorching with the floor; His breath choked, gasping with the volumed smoke, But still from room to room his way he broke. --Byron. The events of the morning in which he had taken so prominent a part presented to Hal Vivian, when alone in his chamber, that evening, rather a wide field for contemplation. He was glad of the opportunity which the close of the day’s labour gave him to retire to the solitude of his neatly furnished bedroom, because, unobserved, he could there review the circumstances which had that day occurred, and give to them the colouring most agreeable to the feelings which had recently taken possession of him. He threw himself into an easy chair, and was quickly engaged in drawing deductions. Not for a second was the fair face of Flora absent from his vision. The rugged visage of Jukes, the grimy features of his satellites, the impassible countenance of Nathan Gomer, which seemed moulded out of fine gold, the bright, frank aspect of Lotte, by turns floated across his mental speculum, but never to displace that of Flora. Out of the past a future was to be formed; he tried to construct it, and in doing so set himself honestly to work to examine those feelings which prompted him so strongly to undertake the task. He sought to understand why he should interest himself at all in the affairs of the old gold-worker; what motives should have induced him to interfere and take part in what had happened that morning, or why he should be so very eager to effect certain happy results he had in contemplation, and the answer which constantly presented itself to these and other questions was--Flora Wilton! Hal Vivian was just out of his time; but a few days, and his-- Seven long years were out.