They rode swiftly along, and as
they neared the house, they saw a bright glare in the sky.
CHAPTER VII
THE FIRE
"That's from a fire, Paul!" said Arthur. "And
it looks--"
"As if it came from Uncle Henri's house? It
certainly does, Arthur! Oh, but I hope it isn't!
That would be dreadful!"
They raced on now, and as they hastened, the sky
before them grew ever brighter. They could no
longer doubt that the glare they saw came from a
conflagration, and it grew more and more certain
every minute that it was their own summer home
that was burning. There was no other house in
that direction that would produce such a splendid
reflection were it afire.
And soon, too, they came in sight of the house,
and all hope that they were mistaken vanished.
It was M. de Frenard's house, and a single glance
showed that there was no hope of saving it.
Flames were spurting from every window, and
through the roof, even as they came into plain
sight of the house, there burst a great pillar of
fire. There seemed to be an explosion of some sort,
for a great mass of sparks shot upward toward
the heavens, raining down a moment later. In the
light of the fire they could see the men-servants
and some of the peasant neighbors busily engaged
in dragging a few pieces of furniture and some
pictures across the lawn--evidently what little
there had been time to drag from the burning
house.
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