Back in the bedroom the air was comparatively pure. The window looked on to a green court with a high hedge of clipped yew trees beyond. It was one of the quietest and most shady rooms in the house, and Mary had chosen it for that very reason. In the winter she occupied another apartment. But its very quietness frightened the girl now. As she looked out of the small diamond casement in the great stone mullion, she realised that it would be impossible for any grown figure to squeeze through. She might have taken the risk of jumping down on to the grass, but the bars of the mullion window were too close together to permit of the attempt. And already the draught from the open window was drawing the smoke into the room. Listening intently, Mary could hear the sound of shouts and the tramping of feet; now, she caught the echo of horses' hoofs as mounted messengers galloped down the drive. She shouted aloud, but nobody appeared to hear her. The thick high hedge of yews seemed to smother her voice. It was dreadful to be caught in a trap like that, but Mary resolved to meet her fate bravely. Probably the volume of smoke would cause unconsciousness long before the dreaded fire reached its victim. There would be no pain or suffering. It seemed to Mary that she had heard people speak of such things before. Well, she would die alone, and nobody would know how the end had come. Not quite alone! Suddenly Mary remembered that old Patience was in the dressing-room and looked towards the couch there. She rubbed her eyes in astonishment. Patience was no longer there. Perhaps she had not been able to sleep, probably she had aroused herself very early and gone about her business. At any rate, she was not in the dressing-room, and Mary felt glad of it. The horror of the situation was lessened by the absence of the demented woman. Greatly daring, Mary opened the window and screamed for help once more. She could hear yells and calls, and presently the steady throb of what she knew to be an engine. But all the time the smoke was growing thicker and denser in the room. So far Mary could not hear the crackling of flames, she was not sensible of the fact that the room was getting any warmer. There was always the hope that the fire might be subdued before it got a good hold of the building. A great deal of timber had gone to the building of Dashwood Hall, but the walls were of the most solid masonry, and it was quite possible for the fire to burn out a room or two without going any farther. Something like an hour passed, an hour that seemed like eternity. The shouting and the tramping and the thudding were still going on. Then came a lull for the moment, and it seemed to Mary that somebody was calling her by name, somebody inside the house. She waited a moment, thinking perhaps that it was her excited fancy, but once more the call came, and this time from the corridor.