"I don't want to see the Flemings; I want Mr. Ticehurst," said Helen obstinately.
"Well, we must stop at Fleming's," said Conlan, "if it's only to ask the way. I don't know the road, and I'm not going to kill you and myself by driving into the creek such a night as this."
And Helen was fain to acquiesce, for she could not do otherwise.
When they reached the house Fanny was standing outside, and as the light from the open door fell on Helen's pallid face, she screamed.
"Good Heavens, Mrs. Ticehurst! Is it you?" she cried—"and you, Mr. Conlan? Oh, I am so glad!—father's away, and Mr. Ticehurst's house must be on fire."
"Ah!" said Helen, "I thought so. Oh, oh! he's dead, I know he's dead! I must go to him! Fanny, dear, can you show us the way—can you? You must! Perhaps we can save him yet!"
She frightened Fanny terribly, for her face was so pale and her eyes glittered so, and for a moment the girl could hardly speak.
"I don't know it by night, Mrs. Ticehurst; but Elsie does," she said at last.
"Where is she, then?" said Helen eagerly.
"She's gone over there now," cried Fanny, "for father had not come home; and when we saw the fire, we were afraid something had happened, so Elsie took the black horse and went over. She's there now."