quietly along now, and it was marvellous to see how quickly the place
was being deserted. In the vestibule a long queue of police had gathered
and stood to prevent people huddling together. In less time than it
takes to tell, everybody was outside. Like magic an engine had appeared,
and men in helmets were jumping nimbly over the stalls laying their hose
down. As Field turned to go a little cry from the stage attracted his
attention.

A girl stood there, dressed as a Watteau shepherdess. She seemed
absolutely dazed and frightened, a pretty and pathetic little figure in
her great golden wig.

"Go back," Field yelled. "You'll have that blazing scenery on top of
you. Why don't you go back to the stage door?"

The actress turned at last and shook her head. Tears were rolling down
her face.

"I can't," she said. "The fire is too great. I was in my dressing-room,
and I did not know. Oh, why doesn't somebody save me?"

It was quite clear that the little girl was too dazed and frightened to
do anything. Without any further loss of time Field jumped into the
orchestra and scrambled onto the stage. The hot flames drove him back
for the moment; he could see already that the wig of the pretty little
shepherdess was being scorched by the hot fiery breath. He lifted the
girl in his arms and made a bold leap over the orchestra into the
stalls. Then he carried her out into the street and called for a cab.
The air of the night was not without effect on the frightened actress.

"Where shall I tell the man to drive?" Field asked.

"I shall remember presently," the girl said. "I am altogether dazed and
stupid for the moment. I can see nothing but fire and smoke. Let me
think. Oh, yes, it is coming back to me. Yes, Mrs. Marsh, 124, Copeland
Avenue, Regent's Park. Oh, it is very good and kind of you. Will you let
me tender my thanks when I am better?"

"I have done nothing," Field said modestly. A sudden idea occurred to
him, accustomed as he was to think matters out quickly and in all kinds
of startling surroundings. "If I may, I will call upon you to-morrow
morning. Good-night."

The cab was whirled away, and Field went thoughtfully down the Strand.
It seemed to him that he had seen the pretty little actress before, but
then such queer sensations are frequent in times of danger and
excitement, Field reflected. At the same time he could not quite rid
himself of the idea that he had seen the girl before. He pondered over
the mat