The croak of a frog on the border of a muddy stream beside the road made him turn his eyes in that direction. He stopped, and poked absently among the herbage. While doing this, he became aware of a prolonged rumble.
"Thunder! Dear me, I shouldn't have thought it!" uttered Cragg.
He looked at the clear sky, dotted with tiny cloud-fleckings, and wondered—could it be thunder?
Cragg turned towards the house, and stood petrified. Part of the building was still there, dimly visible through a cloud of dust; but something very strange had happened.
He might be a slow man generally. At this moment he was anything rather than slow. The first shock over, he literally bounded forward. A greyhound or a deer could hardly have improved upon the speed with which he covered the space between him and the ruin.
For a ruin it was. As he drew near, gasping audibly for breath, he saw that only the front wall and portions of the two side walls remained intact. The remaining portion of the house had disappeared. When the dense cloud of dust slowly lessened, he detected a slight figure in the window above, clinging there in a convulsed and terror-stricken stillness. Beyond was chaos—a dark gulf, into which the building had disappeared.
No voice spoke, no human being stirred. Cragg could see nothing of Mr. Dale, or of the maid-servant. Only Pattie Dale was visible, and Cragg hurried beneath the window.
"What does it all mean? Are you hurt?" he cried. He was close enough to render shouting unnecessary.
Pattie made no reply. She seemed to be dazed, perhaps hardly conscious. He could see that her blue eyes were widely-opened in a fixed stare.
"My dear," he called, "you must wake up; you must let me help you down. It isn't safe there." A shudder passed over him, as he realised that at any moment this wall, too, might descend into the gulf, carrying her with it. "Rouse up, my dear. Try to hear what I'm saying. I'm Cragg, you know, and I want to get you down. You must drop into my arms. See?"