"No," answered the man, "we are all here. My wife, two servants and myself. But shall we not be able to save any of our things? They are not insured."
"You, I am greatly afraid, will not, and ought to think yourself lucky in getting off with your lives." As Cheyne spoke, the fire burst through the door at the head of the kitchen stairs, and rushed up the hall towards the entrance. Cheyne caught hold of the handle and banged the door.
"What did you do that for?" asked the man angrily.
"To give you the only chance you have of saving your furniture."
"What do you mean?" said the man, in bewilderment. "How are we to get at it now?"
"The air, my dear sir, the air. You cannot go into that hall now to get at anything. Nothing can be done until the firemen come; and if you left the front door open, you would only be blowing the flame upstairs."
"The mistress of the house had by this time been taken in by a neighbour opposite, but the servants declined a sanctuary, preferring the excitement and the spectacle in the street. Cheyne approached one of the servants and said:
"Are you quite sure no one else is in that house, for I greatly fear there is little hope of saving a stick of it."
"Oh yes, sir," said the girl. "Quite sure. We have a lodger.
"And where is he?"