certain native curiosities of straw and skin, wicker-work, and other
ethnographical treasures.

Some new unpacked cases left by the attendants the previous afternoon
materially assisted the conflagration.

It was an impressive scene, to witness the flames playing round the
pedestals of the torsos, statues, and cases. I only waited for a few
moments to make sure that my work was complete. I shut the iron door
between the gallery and the hall to avoid the possibility of the fire
spreading to the rest of the building. Then I seized Monteagle by the
arm and hurried him through the rhododendrons, over the wall, into the
meadows. I turned back once, and just caught a glimpse of red flame
bursting through the windows. Having seen Monteagle half-way back to the
college, I returned to see if any alarm was given. Already a small crowd
was collecting. A fire-engine arrived, and a local pump was almost set
going. I returned to college, where I found the porter standing in the
gateway.

'The FitzTaylor is burning,' he said. 'I have been looking out for you,
sir.'

* * * * *

There is nothing more to tell. To this day no one suspects that the fire
was the work of an incendiary. The Professor has returned from the East,
but lives in great retirement. His friends say he has never quite
recovered the shock occasioned by the loss of his collection. The rest
of the museum was uninjured.