FROM THE FIRE BACK TO THE FRYING PAN
The white-robed figures, having left the room by a small circular door
behind the hangings, followed the black servant along a pitch-dark
passage, and in a few moments came to a bridge, similar to the one they
had crossed before. As they felt their way over it cautiously one by
one, the sound of rushing water came to them from below, and a cold
breeze fanned their cheeks. A little further on they touched the first
step of a stair, and began to ascend its worn stone treads. They mounted
some thirty steps, and touching the wall with their hands, moved onward
along a passage. This passage made an abrupt turn to the left, and when
they had cleared the corner they saw in its sides before them a gleam of
light here and there.
"The Master's work-rooms," said the black servant. "Please to follow."
They passed now and then beneath a lighted window, too high to be seen
through, and at the end of the passage the servant paused before a
closed iron door. He opened this door with a key, and led them forth.
Before them was a garden, the most beautiful that any of them had ever
seen. High over it was a dome of pale green and amber glass, through
which the sunlight streamed in mild and parti-coloured rays. The walls
which supported the dome were so high that it was impossible to see
beyond. In the center was a fountain, dropping in a sparkling shower
into a marble basin; around it spread a well-ordered carpet of flowers,
of all the colours, as it seemed, of the rainbow; along the walls were
cocoa palms, banana trees, and the feathery bamboo; white cockatoos
sailed across from palm to palm; the air was heavy with a warm odour of
moist earth and blossoms. The whole party drew a deep breath of
pleasure. The dark place from which they had come seemed to fade away
like a dream before the soft beauty of the garden.
The servant led them to the opposite side, and unlocked a door in the
wall, making way for them to pass in before him. They entered, and heard
the door locked behind them; the servant was no longer with them; they
were alone in a small square room, of stone walls and an earthen floor;
there was no opening, but in the opposite wall was a closed door. A pale
light pervaded the place, from what source they could not discover. In
the earthen floor from wall to wall grew a thicket of stiff stalks,
higher than Freddie's head, and clustered closely around each stalk from
bottom to top were flowers of a waxen whiteness.
"It seems a real pity," said Aunt Amanda, "to break those pretty plants,
but I reckon we've got to wade into them. I'm mighty curious to see
what's on the other side of that door. Probably the fire the old man was
talking about. Oh, dear, I don't like fire. But we've got to get to that
door, so come along."
The whole party moved in a body into the thicket of waxen stalks.
As they stepped in, the stalks broke around them with sharp reports.
They moved on again, and the reports, as the stalks broke, became louder
and louder; and now each one felt the hour-glass in his hand being
tugged at, and found that wherever his hand touched a flower, the petals
flattened themselves on the hand and the glass, and clung so tight that
it took a hard jerk to get them loose. There was danger of losing the
glasses, and with one accord they held the glasses high above their
heads. The moment they did so, the conduct of the stalks became
terrifying indeed.
As if in anger, the broken stalks spouted forth, with a hiss and a rush,
blinding jets of liquid white fire, which tore at the ceiling angrily
and roared and crackled. From the broken stalks it spread to the others,
and in a moment jets of liquid white fire were blazing and crackling
upward from all the stalks in the room, and the terrified captives were
in the very midst of it.
It ran up their robes and showered on them from the ceiling; it became
denser and angrier; it was all but unbearable, though they felt it in
only a tiny fraction of its real strength; in another instant the frail
white gowns must surely be consumed. But in some strange way the gowns
shed off the liquid fire, and remained unscorched.
For a moment the sufferers were stupefied. They were unable to move.
Freddie tried to scream, but he could make no sound; he almost fainted
away; but he felt, through it all, the sturdy arm of Mr. Toby tight
about him.
They pushed on in a close body and passed the center of the room; the
white glare became more blinding, the roar and crackle more deafening;
they were surrounded, cut off, in the midst of destruction; they were
bewildered; they stopped again; there was no use in going back; they
must get forward through the furnace at any cost; they made a new start;
and in a frenzy of terror, their hands before their eyes, with a rush
they gained the door. They crowded against it; they pushed and beat upon
it; it gave way before them; they rushed through, and it closed behind
them of its own accord.
They were standing in broad daylight on the sidewalk of a city street,
under a high blank wall, with shops on the opposite side; each with an
hour-glass, empty of sand, in his right hand, and each clad only in a
long white night-gown.