Mr Fairweather grasped the Saint's hand and pumped it vigorously up and down. He had recovered what must have been his normal tremendous dignity, and now he was also able to make himself heard.
"I shall take personal steps," he announced majestically, "to see that your heroism is suitably recognized."
He stalked off after the others, without stopping to inquire the Saint's name and address.
Clanging importantly, the first fire engine swept up the gravel drive and came to a standstill in front of the terrace.
4
"I'm glad they got here in time to water the flowers," Simon observed rather bitterly.
He was wondering how much difference it might have made if they had arrived early enough to get a ladder to the window of that locked room. But the nearest town of any size was Anford, about seven miles away, and the possibility that they could have arrived much sooner was purely theoretical. From the moment a fire like that took hold the house was inevitably doomed.
The policeman who had been holding his arm had moved off during the conversation, and the other spectators were simply standing around and gaping in the dumb bovine way in which spectators of catastrophes usually stand and gape.
Simon touched Patricia's arm.
"We might as well be floating along," he said. "The excitement seems to be over, and it's past our bedtime."