Two minutes later he was guiding his light car down the curving hillside road, driving fast but carefully. He made such good time that he arrived at the scene of the fire several minutes before the local Fire Department had assembled its hats, its equipment and itself, and had gotten its apparatus to the field of action.
A small mob of men, women and delighted children was gathered in the open space before the office building and the gate. They were milling about in excited groups, eager enough to lend a hand but hopelessly confused without the guidance of a leader. Varr thrust through them impatiently, opened the door—that the watchman had thoughtfully left unbarred—and hurried through the building to the rear premises.
A column of black smoke shot with leaping crimson flames told him where to direct his swift steps. The fire, evidently, was confined for the moment to one, or possibly two, of the small outbuildings. These were used largely for storage purposes; they were crammed full of packing cases, extra carboys of acids and loose heaps of bark—a raft of stuff that was highly combustible. A glance told Simon that they were doomed.
Through a haze of greasy smoke he glimpsed an active figure—the only human being in sight except himself—and he hastened to its side. It was Fay, the night-watchman, a powerful, stocky man who clearly did not share the tanner's pessimistic conviction. He had ransacked the premises for every hand fire-extinguisher he could find, had brought them to the burning buildings and, with fine optimism, was now spraying their contents on the edges of the blaze.
"Stop wasting that stuff!" commanded Varr. "Nothing to be done here! All we can do is try to save the rest of the outfit."
The watchman withdrew, reluctantly at first but then with a succession of leaps and bounds as a muffled explosion from the interior of the building marked the passing of some overheated container. He halted at a safe distance, wiping his smoke-grimed face, until Varr rejoined him. A faint cheer from beyond the boundary fence carried to them over the roar of the blaze.
"Guess that's the Fire Department," grunted Fay. "About time they turned up!"
"There's oil in that fire!" snapped the tanner, gazing at the black smoke. "Where'd it come from?"
"Two five-gallon tins of it, brought from D building, spilled on the floor and a match chucked into it. I seen them lying on their side in there at the start of it."
"Humph. Brought from D building, eh? Then there's no doubt of this being the work of an incendiary!"