“I’m almost moidered with it all,” the old fellow cried helplessly, to which the superannuated gardener, who now came wheezing in, added, “Aye, we’re both on us moidered.”

George glanced at the futile old couple, then cast his eye upwards, to the various stretches of the grand staircase which could be seen from the well below.  Almost every length of the banisters was blazing, and the cracked and broken skylight above caused a fierce upward draught.

“It’s at the top the water should be poured down,” George cried, taking in the situation in an instant.  “I’ll see if I can get up.”  And in spite of the shouts of the old fellows, and the redoubled shrieks of the maids, the lad skipped up two or three of the flights that zigzagged up the staircase well.

At the second floor, however, he was almost overwhelmed by a great mass of smoke mingled with flame that shot suddenly out of the long corridor running right and left.  Blinded, choked, scorched, George staggered back, tripped, and with a clatter fell down the six or eight steps he had mounted of that flight, and lay for a moment on the broad carpeted landing half-dazed.  But speedily recovering himself, he perceived that the portion of the stairs from which he had just fallen was now blazing fiercely.

“It is useless!” he cried to himself, as he turned to descend to the servants below.

Then, before he had made two steps agonizing shrieks rang out from somewhere above, and he stopped dead, almost appalled.

“Miss Mary and Mrs. Maynard!” he heard the old men shout from below, and the cries of the women servants grew frantic, as the little band gazed terror-stricken upwards.  George, too, cast his eyes aloft, and there, to his utter dismay, were dimly seen through the smoke a couple of female forms peeping from the topmost corridor.

He knew well enough by sight Mr. Blackett’s little daughter of eleven and her governess, a stately old lady, said to be an impoverished relative of the Squire himself.  The little pony chaise in which the two were wont to drive about the neighbourhood was, indeed, familiar to every soul in the district.

“We had forgotten them, we had forgotten them!” came a voice just below him, and there stood old Reuben, who had pulled himself up the steps a little way.  “They are lost!” the aged servant moaned.  “Oh dear, oh dear!” And the poor old fellow blundered down the steps again, weeping like a child.

“Is there any other staircase up to the top of the house?” the boy called after him.

“Only that in the servants’ wing,” was the reply, “and that is gone already.  God help us all!”

“Any long ladders about?  And the stablemen, where are they all?”

“Coachman with the Squire, the grooms gone off to the town for an hour or two.”  Reuben shook his head sorrowfully.

George waited no longer.  With a bound he darted up the stairs again, and in a moment had reached the spot where the fire was fiercest.  Without hesitation he dashed on, watching his chance after a big gust of smoke and flame had surged across the well.  Through the fire he rushed, protecting his face with his arms, and stumbling blindly on.  The worst was soon passed, and the next instant he had gained the top of the staircase.