o _My Uncle's Room_. Mr. Huddlestone was putting on his
boots, still violently trembling, but with an air of determination such
as I had not hitherto observed. Clara stood close by him, with her cloak
in both hands ready to throw about her shoulders, and a strange look in
her eyes, as if she were half-hopeful, half-doubtful of her father.

"Well, boys and girls," said Northmour, "how about a sally? The oven is
heating; it is not good to stay here and be baked; and, for my part, I
want to come to my hands with them, and be done."

"There is nothing else left," I replied.

And both Clara and Mr. Huddlestone, though with a very different
intonation, added, "Nothing."

As we went downstairs the heat was excessive, and the roaring of the
fire filled our ears; and we had scarce reached the passage before the
stairs window fell in, a branch of flame shot brandishing through the
aperture, and the interior of the pavilion became lit up with that
dreadful and fluctuating glare. At the same moment we heard the fall of
something heavy and inelastic in the upper story. The whole pavilion, it
was plain, had gone alight like a box of matches, and now not only
flamed sky-high to land and sea, but threatened with every moment to
crumble and fall in about our ears.

Northmour and I cocked our revolvers. Mr. Huddlestone, who had already
refused a firearm, put us behind him with a manner of command.

"Let Clara open the door," said he. "So, if they fire a volley, she will
be protected. And in the meantime stand behind me. I am the scapegoat;
my sins have found me out."

I heard him, as I stood breathless by his shoulder, with my pistol
ready, pattering off prayers in a tremulous, rapid whisper; and I
confess, horrid as the thought may seem, I despised him for thinking of
supplications in a moment so critical and thrilling. In the meantime,
Clara, who was dead white, but still possessed her faculties, had
displaced the barricade from the front door. Another moment, and she had
pulled it open. Firelight and moonlight illuminated the links with
confused and changeful lustre, and far away against the sky we could see
a long trail of glowing smoke.

Mr. Huddlestone, filled for the moment with a strength greater than his
own, struck Northmour and myself a back-hander in the chest; and while
we were thus for the moment incapacitated from action, lifting his arms
above his head like one about to dive, he ran straight forward out of
the pa