Colin divined that she was in trouble, but he asked no questions, and when she returned, he did not seem to notice her face. "Giles is there," she remarked. "I suppose he is coming in." Mrs. Keith's voice sounded faintly in a long scream, shrill and drawn out like that of some wild animal in a trap. Colin was on his feet and in the hall before a word could be spoken, Phyllys flying after him. From the floor above came cries of fire and a smell of burning. Thither rushed the two, followed by butler and footman. Through the shut door of Mrs. Keith's bedroom issued low moaning. The door was locked—a strong door, not easy to burst open. Colin flung himself against it, without success. He beckoned to the men; but before they could act in concert, the key was turned from within, and a big man emerged. Wreaths of smoke poured out, and darting flames were visible. He carried the helpless form of Mrs. Keith, having flung a wet towel round her face. "Giles!" whispered Phyllys. He must have gone to the front of the house, and have climbed in at the bedroom window over the porch. As this explanation flashed up, she recalled having seen there a light ladder. "Take her—sharp!" He thrust the limp lady into her son's arms. "Not burnt—frightened. Water, quick—plenty of it!" in peremptory accents. "Keep this door shut, or you'll have the house in a blaze. Hurry, men; not a moment to lose!" He banged the door to, and could be heard tearing down curtains within, while butler and footman rushed for cans of water, and Colin half dragged his mother to another room. Phyllys followed, disturbed by fears for Giles. Colin delayed a few seconds to assure himself that Mrs. Keith was not burnt, then asked, "Will you look after her? I must go. Send for Dr. Wallace if needful." "Yes; don't wait. Giles may want you." She found plenty to do, even with the efficient help of Mrs. Keith's maid. For some time the rescued lady was only half conscious, and when she revived, nervous terror overpowered her, causing renewed faintness. Then Colin again made his appearance, used up and white. "Do sit down," urged Phyllys. "Is the fire out?" "Yes." He leant against the chimney-piece. "Much wrong?" with a glance towards the sofa. "Only upset. Is anything burnt? Anybody hurt?" "No one, luckily. Good many things burnt. We have been within an ace of something much worse." "How did it happen?" "There was an open box between bed and window, and a pile of clothes on the floor, which had caught first. They made a bonfire, and the breeze from the window must have carried the curtains within reach. Bedding pretty well destroyed—and all drapery in ashes. Two minutes more and the woodwork would have been in flames. I don't understand why she didn't give the alarm earlier." "Is Giles there still?" "Can't say. I've been filling cans at the cistern—sending the men to and fro. The room is swamped; more damage from water than even from fire, I suspect."