Chapter XXII: The Last of the House of Troubles

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.