Chris felt as if she was losing her wits. Hastily rousing her mother from sleep, she told her all that had happened in such an hysterical fashion, with such wild eyes, and such a pale face, that at first Mrs. Abercarne was disposed to think that the girl had been dreaming. Chris herself seemed to incline to the same opinion. Nevertheless, she begged her mother just to come into the corridor with her for one moment.
“Perhaps,” went on Chris, her teeth chattering with the cold, “perhaps you’ll see something or hear something to show you that it was really true. But, oh! how I hope you won’t.”
Mrs. Abercarne drew on her dressing-gown, and mother and daughter went out into the corridor together. They had scarcely done so before they began to cough and to choke, as a volume of blinding smoke came rushing towards them from the east end of the house.
“Fire! fire! The house is on fire!” cried Mrs. Abercarne.
And as she rushed along the corridor, she ran against Mr. Bradfield as he came out of his room.
“What—what do you say?” cried he, as if in amazement and alarm.
But Chris noticed that he had had time to dress; and as a multitude of ghastly suspicions forced themselves into her mind, she burst out, passionately:
“Dick! What have you done to Dick?”
Mr. Bradfield did not turn to look at her, nor did he answer; but she saw him shiver.
By this time the whole household had taken the alarm. The servants came running from above and from below, among the latter being Stelfox, whom Chris detained for a moment as soon as he reached the top of the stairs.