In such
disasters it is only the question of a fraction of a second as to who
recovers his wits first. Almost on the top of Mrs. Berry's heedless
scream Beatrice had sprung toward the doomed girl--with what intention
she hardly knew--but before she was in reach of danger Adam Nicholson
thrust her to one side and, folding Lois in his arms, flung her to the
ground.
"A rug--a shawl--anything!" he shouted.
Mrs. Carmichael tore the long wrap from her shoulders, and a dozen
willing hands lent what assistance first occurred to them. But
Nicholson fought his enemy alone.
"Stand back!" he commanded. "Stand back!"
They obeyed him instinctively, and stood helpless, watching the short,
desperate struggle between life and death. Scarcely a moment elapsed
before the flames died down--one last tight drawing together of Mrs.
Carmichael's wrap, and they were extinct. Nicholson stumbled to his
feet, the frail, unconscious burden in his arms.
"Please make way," he said. "I do not think she is badly hurt, but she
must be taken home at once. Stafford, go and see if the carriage is
there."
His own face was singed, and one of his hands badly burnt, but he did
not seem to notice his own injuries. Colonel Carmichael, who had
entered the hall with him at the moment of the accident, helped to
clear the road. His features in the half-light were grey with the fear
of those last few moments.
"You have saved our little girl!" he said brokenly to Nicholson.
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