Chapter Eight.
A Hidden Fire.
In the afternoon of the following day Willie set off to the City in quest of Mr Thomas Tippet. Having to pass the King Street fire station, he resolved to look in on his brother.
The folding-doors of the engine-house were wide open, and the engine itself, clean and business-like, with its brass-work polished bright, stood ready for instant action. Two of the firemen were conversing at the open door, while several others could be seen lounging about inside. In one of the former Willie recognised the strong man who had collared him on a well-remembered occasion.
“Please, sir,” said Willie, going up to him, “is Frank Willders inside?”
“Why, youngster,” said Dale, laying his hand on Willie’s head, “ain’t you the boy that pulled our bell for a lark the other night?”
“Yes, sir, I am; but you let me off, you know, so I hope you won’t bear me ill-will now.”
“That depends on how you behave in future,” said Dale with a laugh; “but what d’you want with Frank Willders?”
“I want to see him. He’s my brother.”
“Oh, indeed! You’ll find him inside.”