t, is at the window,
has seen what? His cry of mingled terror and dismay does not reveal. Mr.
Sylvester hastens to his side.

The sight which met his eyes, did not for the moment seem sufficient to
account for the degree of emotion expressed by the other. To be sure,
the lofty tenement-house which towered above them from the other side of
the narrow yard upon which the window looked, was oozing with smoke, but
there were no flames visible, and as yet no special manifestations of
alarm on the part of its occupants. But in an instant, even while they
stood there, arose the sudden and awful cry of "Fire!" and at the same
moment they beheld the roof and casements before them, swarm with pallid
faces, as men, women and children rushed to the first outlet that
offered escape, only to shrink back in renewed terror from the deadly
gulf that yawned beneath them.

It was horrible, all the more that the fire seem to be somewhere in the
basement story, possibly at the foot of the stairs, for none of the poor
shrieking wretches before them seemed to make any effort to escape
downwards, but rather surged up towards the top of the building, waving
their arms as they fled, and filling the dusk with cries that drowned
the sound of the coming engines.

The scene appeared to madden Holt. "My boy! my boy! my boy!" rose from
his lips in an agonized shriek; then as Mr. Sylvester gave a sudden
start, cried out with indiscribable anguish, "He is there, my boy, my
own little chap! A woman in that house has bewitched him, and when he is
not with me, he is always at her side. O God, curses on my head for ever
letting him out of my sight! Do you see him, sir? Look for him, I
beseech you; he is lame and small; his head would barely reach to the
top of the window-sill."

"And that was your boy!" cried Mr. Sylvester. And struck by an appeal
which in spite of his abhorrence of the man at his side, woke every
instinct of fatherhood within him, he searched with his glance the long
row of windows before them. But before his eye had travelled half way
across the building, he felt the man at his side quiver with sudden
agony, and following the direction of his glance, saw a wan, little
countenance looking down upon them from a window almost opposite to
where they stood.

"It is my boy!" shrieked the man, and in his madness would have leaped
from the casement, if Mr. Sylvester had not prevented him.

"You will not help him so," cried the latter. "S