At last, as the afternoon shadows began to lengthen, everybody lent a
hand at clearing up the lunch things, while the stranger in the khaki
trousers sat under a tree smoking a short black pipe, and watched them
thoughtfully.
"I smell burning," announced Charlie, suddenly, sniffing the air like a
hunting dog.
"It's your own fire, midget," replied Percy.
"No, no, it's on the breeze. There, look at that."
As he spoke a spark fell at his feet, then another and another.
The stranger jumped up quickly, wet his finger and held it in the air.
"The wind's from the northwest," he exclaimed under his breath.
As he faced the wind, another group of sparks, borne on the breeze, blew
against him.
"By Jove," he cried. "It must be Virginia's house. Thanks for your
hospitality, I must go," he added, starting to run down the trail.
"Come back," called Billie, "we'll take you in the car quicker than you
can cut through the woods."
Without a word the stranger turned and joined them as they gathered
their belongings together and raced through the woods to the Comet.
Silently they piled themselves into the machine and in another ten
minutes Billie had guided them safely over the rutty wagon track to the
hard beaten automobile road and they were speeding along toward
Virginia's.
As they tore up the avenue of giant trees, over which hung a cloud of
dense smoke, Billie said to the stranger who was sitting beside her:
"I know that you are Mr. Ignatius Donahue. I have known it from the
first."
"How did you recognize me?" he asked smiling.
"From your pictures."
"Well, keep the secret awhile longer," he said. "I have been getting
over an--er--accident I was in not long ago, and staying here quietly with
Virginia and Edward."
The only living soul they could see as they approached Virginia's home
was old Mammy who was running up and down the front gallery like a
distracted creature, lifting up her voice in wails and lamentations. One
wing of the house had entirely burned down and the flames had leapt over
the main roof and were making rapid headway.
"Bress de Lord, oh my soul," she cried when she saw the automobile full
of people come up to the front door.
Mr. Donahue was the first to jump out.
"Is your mistress in her room, Mammy?"
"Yes, Marsa, yes, sir. I cyan't move her a step," wailed the poor old
woman.
"Where's Miss Virginia?"
"A lady don' sen' fur her to come to the hotel quick. She's been gone an
hour."
"Where's Uncle Peter?"
"He don' drive little Missy over, Marsa."
Another moment, and Mr. Donahue had disappeared in the smoke-filled
house, followed by the boys.
Then Billie did something for which I am sure you will hardly know
whether to commend her for her bravery or blame her for her
recklessness.
"Where's Dick, the mocking bird, Mammy?" she asked.
"In his cage in de kitchen, little Missy," moaned the colored woman,
rocking herself back and forth.
Running around the back of the house where she dimly remembered the
kitchen was situated, Billie pressed her face against one of the windows
and peered into the room, which was fast filling with smoke that poured
in from a passage leading from the burning wing. She knew it was the
kitchen because the floor was of brick and she could make out the dim
outline of the great range which had not been used in all these years.
It was impossible to find the door in all the intricate back region of
the old house. It must be somewhere in that smoke-filled passage.
Seizing an old stool under the window, Billie broke in the glass; then
using it to stand on, she climbed through.
"Dick, old fellow," she called.
A feeble chirp answered. Yes, there he was, huddled in his cage, his
feathers all ruffled up and his head under his wing. She seized the cage
and ran to the window just as the roof of the wing with a great crash
fell in, covering the porch outside with burning debris. A volume of
smoke and flame outside curled into the open window and she knew that
escape was impossible that way.
As she ran up the three steps which divided the kitchen from the next
room, she stumbled and fell over something stretched across the doorway.
It was the body of a man lying face downward, his head on his arm.
Seizing him by the shoulders, she dragged him away from the door and
closed it to keep the smoke from pouring in. Then to confirm the
suspicions which had come to her when she saw the rumpled black hair and
slight, well-knit frame, she turned the man over.
"Edward!" she cried. "Get in here, Dicky-bird," she said, slipping the
mocking bird from the cage into her blouse.
Seizing the unconscious boy by his ankles, she began dragging him slowly
across the floor. It required all her strength, but she managed to get
him through the doorway and into the hall. The smoke was terrible,
however. Not in the great fire at Shell Island had it seemed so dense
and thick. At last, staggering toward the door, she called:
"Help! Help!"
It was Ignatius Donahue who carried her out in his arms, while she
whispered hoarsely,
"Be careful not to crush the bird! He's in my blouse."
Edward's double and Charlie Clay lifted him out of the smoke-filled
hall.
"Shan't we try and save the house, sir?" asked Percy, who saw in the
stranger now only a very distinguished person, born to command.
"No, no, my boy. It can't be saved and it had better burn. It has been a
house of sorrow always."
They carried Edward l'Estrange farther down the avenue to the automobile
which had been moved out of reach of smoke and sparks. As Billie's dazed
senses began to return, she saw, sitting in the back, Virginia's mother,
very pale and ill. But strange to say, the invalid was not looking at
the house. Her eyes were fastened on Ignatius Donahue with an expression
in which could be read many things: wonder, surprise, perhaps even joy.
Billie thought her more beautiful even than the first time she had met
her, and it occurred to her, watching the delicate, lovely face, that at
least the poor lady would never know now about her prized heirlooms.
They would to her always have been burned with the house.
Edward l'Estrange was not long unconscious, after he was brought into
the fresh air. They chafed his wrists and temples and presently he
opened his eyes.
"Are they all safe?" he asked as memory returned to him.
"All safe, my boy, and if you are able to stand up, we'd better be
taking your mother back to the hotel," answered Mr. Donahue.
As he spoke, the roof of the old house crashed in and the four walls
stood out bleak and desolate in the smoking ruins.
The Comet carried a big load that afternoon. For the first time in her
life, old Mammy rode in an automobile, but the old woman, like her
mistress, was too dazed to realize that she was skimming along the high
road at the rate of thirty miles an hour.
On the way to the hotel, Billie heard Mr. Donahue say to Edward: "I
didn't know you were in the house or in the neighborhood, my boy."
"I only arrived this morning. I was to stay away two or three days
longer, but I went to your office in New York as you directed, with the
message for your secretary, and while I was waiting a bunch of mail
arrived. The letter on top was this. It may have been wrong, but I took
it because you see I couldn't help recognizing the handwriting as my
father's. Who directed it or where it came from, is a mystery."
He put his hand in his pocket and drew out a letter which Billie
recognized as the very one she had re-directed several days before.
"But where did it come from?" demanded Mr. Donahue in amazement.
"We found it under a little house in the woods," she broke in, "and I
sent it to your New York address, which is the one Papa gave me."
"You are a jolly, clever young lady," cried the older man delightedly,
"and you can never know what a debt of gratitude we owe you."
It was a lucky chance that Mr. Duffy's motor car happened to pass before
they reached the hotel, and some of the party were transferred to that
roomy and capacious machine. So that the overloaded Comet did not, after
all, create a sensation as it rolled up to the side entrance of the
hotel.
Contrary to their expectations, Mrs. l'Estrange was neither ill nor cast
down. Perhaps she did not realize yet that her home had just been burned
to the ground. At any rate, when Mr. Donahue carried her into the hotel,
she rested her cheek on his shoulder and said softly:
"You find me a broken old woman, Ignatius."
"No, no, Virginia. Only much paler and thinner. There is a great doctor
who is an intimate friend of mine, and he has promised to come down in a
few days and have a look at that spine of yours. I have enormous faith
in him. I believe he can cure you."
The two Edwards were talking earnestly together when Billie restored the
little mocking bird to its master, and before they parted they grasped
hands like two brothers who had been reunited after a long separation.