“Yes, my sister Katy. She is in a good deal of pain. Can you come right off?”
“I’ll get ready at once. Will you stop and ride with me?”
“No, thank you, doctor. I’ll run home and tell mother you’re coming.”
“I may be there first, Harry. However, perhaps you will feel better to go.”
The doctor knew that when a friend or relative is in danger, nothing is harder to bear than passive suspense, and that action is a relief. So he interposed no objections to Harry’s wish.
Harry naturally decided to return by the same short cut by which he had come. On the way was a lonely old building, aloof from the road, but very near his path, which had recently fallen into possession of Squire Turner. It was not tenanted, and would require considerable repairs before it would be in order to receive tenants. Ten years before, it had been insured with a fire insurance company for an amount below its value at that time. The insurance had been kept up, but the value had so depreciated that it would be a profitable thing for the proprietor if it should be consumed by fire.
Squire Turner was aware of this, and in an evil hour, under the influence of cupidity, determined to set fire to his own building, in order to realize the insurance money.
Being in a lonely situation, he thought he should be able to set fire to the house, and return home before the village awoke to the fact that there was a fire, while there was not much chance of the wheezy old engine getting to the spot in time to arrest the conflagration.
Harry was a few rods from the house when his attention was arrested by a sight which struck him with dismay. A man muffled in an overcoat was stooping over a basket of shavings. In a moment there was a tiny light, proceeding from a match. This was communicated to the shavings, which caught at once. The man threw the basket with its combustible contents into the house through a broken sash, and, after pausing a moment to judge whether it was likely to accomplish his purpose, turned swiftly away. His coat-collar was up, and his hat was drawn down over his face as he turned round. His amazement may be imagined when he found that the midnight incendiary was no other than Squire Turner himself!
“What can it mean?” he thought, bewildered.