As he listened Hodge shivered a little.
“Never mind, Worthington,” said Frank. “He is all right. He will escape from the fire.”
“No, no, no!” gasped the man, wringing his hands. “See him lying there! See the fire flashing on his face! See the smoke! It is coming thick. I must go! I must leave him. It is a fearful thing to do! But if he escapes he will destroy me. He will send me to prison, and I must leave him to die!”
He covered his eyes with his hands, as if to shut out a terrible spectacle.
“No one sees me!” he whispered. “Here are the stairs! It is all dark—all dark! I must get out quick, before the fire is discovered. I have done it! I am on the street! I mustn’t run! If I run they will suspect me. I will walk fast—walk fast!”
Merry glanced at Hodge and sadly shook his head.
“Now the engines are coming!” exclaimed the deranged man. “Hear them as they clang and roar along the streets! See the people run! See the horses galloping! They are coming to try to put out the fire. What if they do it in time to save him! Then he will tell them of my treachery! Then he will send me to prison! I must see—I must know! I must go back there!”
“He shall not send you to prison, Worthington,” asserted Merry soothingly. “He shall be merciful to you.”
“Why should he? Here is the burning building. Here are the engines, panting and throbbing. See! they pour streams of water on the building. No use! It is too late; you cannot save him. He is dead long before this. Who shall say I was to blame? What if they do find his charred body? No man can prove I had a hand in it. I defy you to prove it!”
Shaking his trembling hands in the air, the wretch almost shrieked these words.