It is the evening of the 3rd of June. A cry rends the air suddenly,
whistles are blowing, there is a rattling of horses' hoofs. "Fire!
Fire!" Richard, who was passing Soho Square at the time, heard the cry
and dashed into the burning house. In a room full of smoke he perceived
a cowering woman. Hyacinth! To pick her up was the work of a moment, but
how shall he save her? Stay! The telegraph wire! His training at the
Royal Circus stood him in good stead. Treading lightly on the swaying
wire he carried Hyacinth across to the house opposite.
"At last, my love," he breathed.
"But the papers," she cried. "You must get them, or father will not let
you marry me."
Once more he treads the rocking wire; once more he re-crosses, with the
papers on his back. Then the house behind him crumbles to the ground,
with the wicked Jasper in its ruins.
Illustration: Richard Recovers the Letters.