gainst the back door, quite out of the
moonlight, something was piled. Forked tongues of flame were shooting
out of it everywhere. He seized the chain attached to the factory-bell,
and rang it rapidly. There was a window thrown up, and a voice called.

"Fire! fire!" he shouted. "Turn on the hose,--the lower back door."

The flames streamed up fiercely now. It was plain that the mound had
been saturated with kerosene.

Daly hurried down, and opened a door. "Hurd and Byrnes are at the
buckets and hose," he cried. "Where is it? O Mr. Darcy!"

"Quick, quick!" shouted Jack, rushing by him.

The men had the hose ready. They put it out of the window, turned on the
stream, and in a few moments a column of dense smoke rose amid the
arrowy flashes of lurid splendor. The watchman ran down from Connelly's.

It was subdued in a few moments. They tore away the charred boxes and
_debris_, smoking and smouldering. Underneath all they found the body of
princely Bruno.

"This is fiendish!" cried Jack, dragging the poor fellow away, his
scorched coat smelling horribly. "Brave Bruno, you are the second hero
of the night!"

"Whatever dastardly devil did this, knows as much about Hope Mills as
you or I," shouted Hurd savagely. "Bruno was poisoned first; and he
wouldn't have taken any thing from a strange hand. But the fellow was a
fool to build the fire here."

"I don't know about that," said Darcy. "If it had burned the door down,
it would have gone in the hall, and up the hatchway--if it was open."

"By thunder! so it would; and right to the stock-room. That place must
never be left open again while Hope Mills stands, or co-operation waves
her starry banner in the breeze."

"Loud applause!" said some one.

The fire was thoroughly extinguished; and the guardian of the night
decided to remain here, being within call if another disturbance should
occur at Mrs. Connelly's. The bells rang out for midnight. A few, who
had gathered at the alarm, dispersed: and every thing became quiet
again,--deadly, solemnly quiet.

Jack wanted to see Maverick, so he paced back to Mrs. Connelly's. He was
trying to remember some distinctive mark of the man he had seen jump. He
was too stout for Davy, and he could not believe such villany of the
man. Then Price was a little lame from an old rheumatic affection, and
would not have dared such a deed.

Barton Kane had been washed, patched, bandaged, put to bed, and given an
opiate; so now he was in a