After what seemed an age they reached that turn and found themselves in a place where a breath of night air fanned their cheeks.
Buildings lay between them and the doomed executive building. The firemen were plying these with water. The great cement structure would be completely emptied of its contents by the fire but it would stand there empty-eyed and staring like an Egyptian sphinx.
“It may form a fire-wall which will protect this and the next street,” said Florence hopefully. “The worst may be over.”
CHAPTER XXIV
SECRETS REVEALED
On a night such as this, one does not stand on formalities. There was a light burning in the mystery cottage on Tyler street. The girls entered without knocking.
The scene which struck their eyes was most dramatic. On a long, low couch lay the aged Frenchman. Beside his bed, her hair disheveled, her garments blackened and scorched by fire, knelt the child. She was silently sobbing. The man, for all one could see, might be dead, so white and still did he lie.
Yet as the girls, still dressed in great coats and rubber hats, stepped into the room, his eyes opened; his lips moved and the girls heard him murmur:
“Ah, the firemen. Now my books will burn, the house will go. They all will burn. But like Montcalm at Quebec, I shall not live to see my defeat.”
“No, no, no!” the child sprang to her feet. “They must not burn! They shall not burn!”
“Calm yourself,” said Lucile, advancing into the room and removing her coat as she did so. “It is only I, your friend, Lucile. The fire is two blocks away and there is reason to hope that this part of Tyler street will be saved. The huge concrete building is burning out from within but is standing rugged as a great rock. It is your protection.”