“It is a damnable plot, your majesty, designed by the Papists, or the Dutch, or the French—­I don’t know which—­perhaps all three,” rejoined the lord mayor; “and it appears that the cocks of all the pipes at the waterworks at Islington were turned, while the pipes and conduits in the city were empty.  This is no accidental fire, your majesty.”

“So I find,” replied the king; “but it will be time enough to inquire into its origin hereafter.  Meantime, we must act, and energetically, or we shall be equally as much to blame as the incendiaries.  Let a proclamation be made, enjoining all those persons who have been driven from their homes by the fire to proceed, with such effects as they have preserved, to Moorfields, where their wants shall be cared for.”

“It shall be made instantly, your majesty,” replied the lord mayor.

“Your next business will be to see to the removal of all the wealth from the goldsmiths’ houses in this street, and in Gracechurch-street, to some places of security, Guildhall, or the Royal Exchange, for instance,” continued the king.

“Your majesty’s directions shall be implicitly obeyed,” replied the lord mayor.

“You will then pull down all the houses to the east of the fire,” pursued the king.  “Get all the men you can muster; and never relax your exertions till you have made a wide and clear breach between the flames and their prey.”

“I will—­I will, your majesty,” groaned the lord mayor.

“About it, then,” rejoined the king; and striking spurs into his horse, he rode off with his train.

He now penetrated one of the narrow alleys leading to the Three Cranes in the Vintry, where he ascended to the roof of the habitation, that he might view the fire.  He saw that it was making such rapid advances towards him, that it must very soon reach the building on which he stood, and, half suffocated with the smoke, and scorched with the fire-drops, he descended.

Not long after this, Waterman’s Hall was discovered to be on fire; and, stirred by the sight, Charles made fresh efforts to check the progress of the conflagration by demolishing more houses.  So eagerly did he occupy himself in the task, that his life had well-nigh fallen a sacrifice to his zeal.  He was standing below a building which the workmen were unroofing, when all at once the whole of the upper part of the wall gave way, dragging several heavy beams with it, and would have infallibly crushed him, if Leonard, who was stationed behind him, had not noticed the circumstance, and rushing forward with the greatest promptitude, dragged him out of harm’s way.  An engineer, with whom the king was conversing at the time of the accident, was buried in the ruins, and when taken out was found fearfully mutilated and quite dead.  Both Charles and his preserver were covered with dust and rubbish, and Leonard received a severe blow on the shoulder from a falling brick.

On recovering from the shock, which for some moments deprived him of the power of speech, Charles inquired for his deliverer, and, on being shown him, said, with a look of surprise and pleasure, “What, is it you, young man?  I am glad of it.  Depend, upon it, I shall not forget the important service you have rendered me.”