eyes upon Cleek's face. Sir Nigel, too, was watching that face, his own
nervous, a trifle distraught.

But Cleek stood there at the window with his hands in his trousers'
pockets, humming a little tune and watching this amazing phenomenon which
a whole village had believed to be witchcraft, as though the thing
surprised him not one whit; as though, in fact, he was a trifle amused
at it. Which indeed he was.

Finally he swung round upon his heels and looked at each of the faces in
turn, his own broadening into a grin, his eyes expressing incredulity,
wonderment, and lastly mirth. At length he spoke:

"Gad!" he ejaculated with a little whistle of astonishment. "You mean
to tell me that a whole township has been hanging by the heels, so to
speak, upon as ridiculously easy an affair as that?" He jerked his thumb
outward toward the flames and threw back his head with a laugh. "Where
is your 'general knowledge' which you learnt at school, man? Didn't they
teach you any? What amazes me most is that there are others--forgive
me--equally as ignorant. Want to know what those flames are, eh?"

"Well, rather!"

"Well, well, just to think that you've actually been losing sleep on it!
Shows what asses we human beings are, doesn't it? No offence meant, of
course. As for you, Mr. Narkom--or Mr. Gregory Lake, as I must remember
to call you for the good of the cause--I'm ashamed of you, I am indeed!
You ought to know better, a man of your years!"

"But the flames, Cleek, the flames!" There was a tension in Merriton's