ouse."

"Some one shut up! One of the servants, do you mean?"

"No, no, no. Some one who has been kept shut up there--hidden--ever so
long. Stephen told me just now. O, father, for pity's sake, try to save
her!"

"Nonsense, lass. Your husband's brain must have been wandering. Who
should be shut up there, and you live in the house and not know it? Why
should Stephen hide any one in his house? What motive could he have for
such a thing? It isn't possible."

"I tell you, father, it is true. There was no mistaking Stephen's words
just now, and, besides that, I've heard noises that might have told me as
much, only I thought the house was haunted. I tell you there is some
one--some one who'll be burnt alive if we're not quick--and every
moment's precious. Won't you try to save her?"

"Of course I will. Only I don't want to risk my life for a fancy. Is
there a ladder anywhere?"

"Yes, yes. The men have ladders."

"And where's this room where you say the woman is shut up?"

"At that corner of the house," answered Ellen, pointing.

"There's a door at the end of the passage, but no window looking this
way. There's only one, and that's over the wood-yard."

"Then it would be easiest to get in that way?"

"No, no, father. The wood's all piled up above the window. It would take
such a time to move it."

"Never mind that. Anything's better than the risk of going into yonder
house. Besides, the room's locked, you say. Have you got the key?"

"No; but I could get it from Stephen, I daresay."

"We won't wait for you to try. We'll begin at the wood-yard."

"Take Robert Dunn with you, father. He's a good brave fellow."

"Yes, I'll take Dunn."

The bailiff hurried away to the wood-yard, accompanied by Dunn and
another man carrying a tall ladder. The farm-servants had ceased from
their futile efforts at quenching the fire by this time. It was a labour
too hopeless to continue. The flames had spread to the west wing. The ivy
was already crackling, as the blaze crept over it. Happily that shut-up
room was at the extreme end of the building, the point to which the
flames must come last. And here, just at the moment when the work of
devastation was almost accomplished, came the Malsham fire-engine
rattling along gaily through the dewy morning, and the Malsham amateur
fire-brigade, a very juvenile corps as yet, eager to cover itself with
laurels, but more careful in the adjustment of its costume than was quite
consistent wit