Delicate women and children were trampled under foot, and the darkness made the scene more dreadful. There was only one door to the hall, which was all the worse for the people. The three boys left off crying "Fire! fire!" when they saw the people coming out. They grew frightened at the terrible uproar, and with blanched faces stood on the outskirts of a quickly increasing crowd. The police came up and rendered effectual assistance. In a quarter of an hour the hall was cleared, and beyond bruises and cuts, none of the grown people were seriously injured. Some women were carried out fainting and bleeding; but one sight caused a thrill of horror to run through the assembling crowd. The police had picked up a little boy--dead! He was a tiny little fellow, about seven years old, and as they placed the lifeless body on a shutter, many a strong man felt inclined to shed tears. This was the only one killed. "He's a goner," whispered Charley to his companions. "Who'd have thought that?" "It's rough," replied Swanny Marsh. "Wonder who's young one he is." "Don't know." "Oh!" said Tommy, "I'm so sorry we did it." "So'm I, now," answered Marsh. The shutter, with the youthful corpse upon it, was taken up by four stout men. "Where are they going to take it?" asked Charley of a man in the crowd. "Up to Barker's, the undertaker's," was the reply. "Whose boy is it?" "They say it's Marsh's; him as lives up the avenue. Little Tony Marsh, I heard them call him, and they won't take him home, 'cos the mother's sick, and the shock might kill her." These were cruel words for Swanny to hear, but he did hear them, and they sank into his heart like lead. "Oh, God!" he murmured, "I have killed my little brother." Then his lips became whiter than his cheeks, and he would have fallen to the ground had not Charley Barker caught him. "Say, Tommy," exclaimed Charley, "this is awful!" "What'll I do?" asked Tommy. "Say nothing to anybody. Watch your chance to get into the shop, and hide away in a coffin, as I told you." "But how about poor Swanny Marsh?" "I'll take him home. Don't bother yourself about him." "All right." "Don't forget; you're not to squeal. I must post Swanny when he comes to. If you don't look out we shall all get sent up." Tommy nodded his head, as if he quite comprehended the warning. He walked sadly away, and Charley, in time, with some difficulty, got Swanny home. The state of affairs at home can be easily imagined--a hysterical mother, a father frenzied with grief, one little bed empty, its occupant gone forever, and the house of mourning, desolation and despair. But crushed with grief as he was, and overwhelmingly shocked, Swanny Marsh did not say anything. He kept the horrid secret locked up in his breast. CHAPTER IV. A NIGHT IN A COFFIN. Tommy watched the undertaker's house from a distance, saw the body of the dead child taken in, waited till the crowd dispersed, and then crept into the house by the back way.