A line
of policemen was drawn up across the road to keep a large space
clear for the firemen. Behind the policemen the crowd were thickly
packed. Frank inquired of many who stood near him if they could
tell him the number of the house which was on fire; but none could
inform him.
Presently the flames began to die away, and the crowd to disperse.
At length Frank reached the first line of spectators.
"Can you tell me the number of the houses which are burned?" Frank
said to a policeman.
"There are two of them," the policeman said "a hundred and four
and a hundred and five. A hundred and four caught first, and they
say that a woman and two children have been burned to death."
"That is where I live!" Frank cried. "Oh, please let me pass!"
"I'll pass you in," the policeman said good naturedly, and he led
him forward to the spot where the engines were playing upon the
burning houses. "Is it true, mate," he asked a fireman, "that a
woman and two children have been burned?"
"It's true enough," the fireman said. "The landlady and her
children. Her husband was a porter at the railway station, and had
been detained on overtime. He only came back a quarter of an hour
ago, and he's been going on like a madman;" and he pointed to the
porter, who was sitting down on the doorsteps of a house facing
his own, with his face hidden in his hands.
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