Part 38 (1/2)

After one ineffectual effort to pry open the lock, the other one had thrown down the scissors that Mrs. Redmond had handed him. Both of these things had occupied seconds rather than minutes,--seconds that seemed hours to Martine and Mrs. Redmond,--and then, before further violence had been done to the door, there was a click, a turn of the lock, and Amy and Priscilla stood before the four others. Their appearance showed that they had indeed dressed hastily, but they made no apologies as they hurried on.

When they reached the street Mrs. Redmond drew a breath of relief. ”Oh, Amy,” she cried, ”how could you be so careless?”

”I took the key from the door absent-mindedly, and had set my travelling-bag on it. I'm thankful enough that I found it, for the door might have been hard to break in.”

”Look, look!” cried Priscilla, excitedly. ”We are out none too soon.”

As she spoke flames were bursting from the wing of the house that they had so lately left, and men and women were pouring in and out of the main building, removing furniture, pictures, and clothes.

”Let me count you,” cried Mrs. Redmond. ”I am not sure--”

”It's Martine, mamma,--she is not with us. Where did she go?”

[Ill.u.s.tration: ”After one ineffectual effort to pry open the lock, the other one had thrown down the scissors.”]

”Perhaps she has gone back to her room for her things. She had left everything behind when she came to rouse us.”

”Impossible! She would not be so foolish. The fire is close to her room.

Here are the engines. Why were they so long in coming?”

”Where is Martine? We must find her.”

”No, no, Amy,” and Mrs. Redmond laid her hand on her daughter's arm.

”But, mother, if she had not called us--”

”Yes, if she had not called us we might be in there now. She did not think of herself, and now she has gone to her room for some of her things.”

”Her diamond perhaps;” and then, as if ashamed of her words, Priscilla added, ”But I can help Amy, Mrs. Redmond. You cannot hurry as we must.”

As Mrs. Redmond watched Amy and Priscilla running into the house she wished she had gone with them. Uncertainty was harder to bear than any effort she might have made. Her suspense, however, was not long, for to her relief she heard Amy's voice.

”Here's Martine, mamma. We had barely time to reach her. Look, look!”

This latter exclamation was called forth by the rapid spread of the flames. It was a beautiful sight--beautiful yet terrible to those who so lately had been within the walls that now seemed to be melting in the heat. Yet even as they gazed Martine began to laugh hysterically. ”You look so--so queer--Priss--Prissie,” she cried, and again she laughed.

The light from the fire enabled them to see one another plainly, and as the others glanced at Priscilla they saw a black streak across her forehead that altogether changed her expression.

”It's a case where the pot can't call the kettle black,” rejoined Amy; ”your own complexion is not milk-white at the present moment, Martine.”

”You are the only one who has her hair properly arranged, Miss Amy. Even your mother has a hasty coiffure, and no collar. Oh, Mrs. Redmond!” and again Martine laughed nervously.

”It matters less how we look than how we feel. I wish that you, like Priscilla, had brought your coat, though I fear there is only one hat among us.”

”What a noise the engine makes! Can't we get away soon?”

”I hope so. If we only had a man with us we could send him off for a carriage. Even Fritz would be useful now.”

From her mother's tone Amy could not judge whether or not she was in earnest, though in truth the same thought had come to her.

”After all,” cried Martine, holding up her watch, ”it is not half-past eleven. I had begun to think that to-morrow had come. The flames are not so bright. I believe that the fire is dying down. It started in so well that I almost hoped that we'd see the house in ashes.”