“Only a chemist in Kensington, who, it seems, is mad after makin’ experiments, and all but blew the roof off his house with one of ’em.”
“Ah! only smoke, I suppose,” said Dale.
“That was all,” said Baxmore, “but there was sitch a lot of it that some fellows thought it was a fire, an’ came tearin’ down here wi’ the news, so we had a ride for nothing.”
“If I’m not mistaken you’ll have a ride for something ere long,” observed Dale, turning his head aside, while he listened attentively. “Hold on, lads, a minute!”
There was a sound of wheels in the distance, as if some vehicle were approaching at a furious pace. On it came, louder and louder, until it turned the corner of the street, and the horses’ feet rattled on the stones as they were pulled up sharp at the station. Instantly the bell was rung violently, and a severe kicking was bestowed on the door.
It is needless to say that the summons was answered promptly. Some of the men quietly resumed the helmets they had just hung up, well knowing that work lay before them.
A cabman darted through the door the instant it was opened, shouting—
“Fire!”
“Where?” asked Dale.
“Forth Street, Holborn, sir!” cried the cabman. Again, for the third time that night, the order was given to “get her out.” While this was being done, Baxmore took a leathern purse from the cupboard, and gave the cabman a shilling for being first to “give the call.”