"She's choked with the smoke, Lizzī is, and don't come to," said Cassi, piteously.
Garrulous women pushed forward to furnish the doctor with details of the rescue and praise Lizzī, but he would not listen to them. He pressed his ear to Lizzī's bosom and silence fell on the spectators. He raised his head, and they, eager, expectant, saw no encouragement in his face. From his pocket he produced a small mirror and wiped it dry with a silk handkerchief. He held it a moment over Lizzī's mouth and smiled.
The air quivered with shouts, the boisterous hurrahs of the men, the shrill huzzas of the women.
CHAPTER IX.
A LETTER FROM GILL'S MOTHER.
Lizzī recovered soon after she was placed in her bed. Gret Reed had aided the physician, and was the first person Lizzī saw when her eyes dreamily opened. They closed again at once, for from downstairs Gill's voice reached her ears, and she knew he was safe. She was ill (she would laugh at the word) but a day.
When the excitement over her had subsided, wondering inquiries as to the origin of the fire began to be voiced. Gill was called to account for going to bed with his clothes on.
"I was working late at the books," he said, "it being the end of the month, and I got so sleepy and tired that I just pulled off my coat and threw myself on the bed and fell asleep."
Colonel Hornberger believed him, and no one had reason to suspect him.
The origin of the fire remained a mystery, but the loss occasioned by the destruction of the store was severe upon the Three Sisters people. Colonel Hornberger set out at once for the city to buy a new stock, first making arrangements with the proprietors of the nearest store to supply his employés with necessities. The Colonel took Gill with him.