At last the train stopped at 42d St., and the distracted father flew down the steps to the sidewalk, called to a hack-man who was standing near and bade him drive him at full speed to the scene of the fire. The snow was still falling when he reached his destination and a large crowd had gathered to view the smoking ruin. A number of firemen were there and there were still two or three streams in operation. Three well dressed gentlemen were standing on the corner of the street watching everything attentively, and as Mr. Van Kuren alighted from his cab he recognized one of the group as Mr. Peter Dewsnap, an old acquaintance of his. “Big fire this,” exclaimed Mr. Dewsnap as the other approached him, “and I’m afraid there are a good many bodies down there under that heap of bricks and mortar. There, they’re bringing a body out now,” he went on eagerly, never thinking what his words meant to the man whose only daughter had been a guest in the hotel the night before. The crowd parted to make way for four men who bore between them a rough stretcher on which lay a shapeless object covered with a blanket. “What’s that?” demanded Mr. Van Kuren, hoarsely, as he placed a detaining hand on the arm of one of the bearers, “a man, or a woman, or a child?” “Man, sir,” was the answer. “Thank God for that!” exclaimed the father so fervently that Mr. Dewsnap glanced at him with a sudden apprehension and exclaimed, “Did you have any friends or relatives in the hotel?” “My daughter slept here last night, and I do not know whether she is alive or not this morning,” was the reply uttered in tones of heart-rending despair that had an instant effect upon Mr. Dewsnap’s kindly and sympathetic heart. “What!” he exclaimed, “your daughter in that hotel and you do not know whether she was saved or not? Was she a young lady or merely a child?” “Between the two,” replied Mr. Van Kuren sadly. “I wonder if it could have been that young girl who was saved by that young friend of yours,” exclaimed one of Mr. Dewsnap’s companions, none other than the honorable Mr. Rupert Doubter who has already been introduced to our readers, and was now an enthusiastic admirer of and believer in the New York Fire Department. “Very likely, indeed,” cried Mr. Dewsnap excitedly. “She seemed to be a young girl of about fifteen, and she was lowered from a window in the fifth floor by a young friend of mine and very proud we all are of him, too. The child had been left in the care of her governess, who slept in an adjoining room and was found lying on the floor unconscious from the effect of the smoke. She had probably started to go into the next room and awaken her young charge and had fallen down, overcome by the dense clouds of smoke. Both she and the young girl were taken to that hotel on the next block and are probably there now, but really, if you could have seen the way that boy—” but Mr. Van Kuren was already on his way to the hotel and out of hearing.