He witnessed in the next few minutes a strange scene of confusion,
of hurrying and scurrying hither and thither. Where there had
been almost pitch darkness, was now a glittering, brilliant bath
of light, in which the figures of men and women, moving swiftly to
and fro, appeared like animated silhouettes. But even as he stared
before him at the extraordinary Hogarthian vision, the roadway and
the pavements of the Strand became strangely and suddenly deserted,
while he began to hear the hoot, hoot of the fire-engines galloping
to the scene of the disaster. Before him the line of police and
of special constables remained unbroken, and barred his further
progress.

"I don't want to go past the theater," he whispered urgently. "I
only want to get to Bow Street, as quickly as possible, on a very
important matter." He slipped the half-crown he had meant to give
the waif he had taken Kitty to be, into a policeman's hand, and
though the man shook his head he let him through.

Sherston shot down the Strand, to his left. Almost filling up the
steep, lane-like street which leads down to the Savoy Hotel, were
rows of ambulances, groups of nurses, and Red Cross men, and absorbed
though he was once more in his own sensations, and the thought of
the terrible ordeal that lay in front of him, Sherston yet found
himself admiring the quickness with which they had been rushed
hither.

On he went, and crossed the empty roadway. How strange that so
little attention was being paid to the fire! Instead of a hurrying
mob of men and women, the Strand was now extraordinarily empty,