re
wandering over the side of the house, where a light smoke told him of
fire. Time enough yet, he thought.

Ericson and Helena hurried into the house and up to the corridor, which
seemed to be the stage of the tragedy. Sir Rupert was there, and Mrs.
Sarrasin, and Miss Paulo, and the Duchess and her three maids, who, with
the instinct of discipline, had rallied round her when, like the three
hares in the old German folk-song, they found that they were not killed.

'Who are killed?' the Dictator asked anxiously but withal composedly. He
had seen men killed before.

'Poor Soame Rivers is killed,' Sir Rupert said sadly. 'The man who broke
into Sarrasin's room--your room, Ericson--_he_ is killed.'

'And Sarrasin himself?' Ericson asked, glancing away from Mrs. Sarrasin.

'Sarrasin is cut about on the shoulder--and of course he was stunned and
deafened. But nothing dangerous we all hope.'

'I have seen my husband,' Mrs. Sarrasin stoutly said; 'he will be as
well as ever before many days.'

'And one of the menservants is killed, I am sorry to say.'

'What about the American gentlemen?'

'I have sent to ask after them,' Sir Rupert innocently said. 'They are
both uninjured.'

'My countrymen,' said the Duchess, 'are bound to get through, like
myself. But they might come out and comfort us.'

'Well, I can do nothing here for the moment,' Ericson said; 'one end of
the house is on fire.'

'Oh, no!' Sir Rupert exclaimed.

'Yes; the east wing is on fire. I shall easily get it under. Send me a
lot of the grooms; they will be the readiest fellows. Let no one leave
the place, Sir Rupert, except these grooms. You give the order, please,
and let someone here see to it.'

'I'll see to it,' Mrs. Sarrasin promptly said. 'I will stand in the
doorway.'

'Shall I go with you?' Helena asked pathetically of Ericson.

'No, no. It would be only danger, and no use.'

Poor Soame Rivers! No use to him certainly. If Helena could only have
known! The one best and noblest impulse of his life had brought his life
to a premature end. He had deeply repented his suppression of the
warning telegram, although he had not for a moment believed that there
was the slightest foundation for real alarm. But it was borne in upon
him that, seeing what his hidden and ulterior views were, it was not
acting quite like an English gentleman to run the slightest risk in such
a case. His only conscience was to do as an English gentlemen ought to
do. If h