For a minute or two they watched the sparks go up and the crowd
striking at the rats that still seemed to find some place of exit.

"There's a place below there that isn't red--hot yet," said Kirby.
"Those rats are not cooked through. Did you tell the police that you
wanted a search warrant?"

"Yes. Might as well argue with an ant-heap. All of 'em too busy
tryin' for commissions in the Volunteers to listen. They've got it
all cut an' dried--somebody in the basement upset a lamp, according
to them--nobody up-stairs--nobody to turn in the alarm until the fire
had complete charge! They offer to prove it when the fire's out and
they can sort the ashes."

"Um-m-m! Tell 'em a trooper of ours saw a light there?"

"Yes."

"What did they say?"

"'Doubtless the lamp that was kicked over!'"

Colonel Kirby clucked to his horse and worked a way out to the edge
of the crowd with the skill of one whose business is to handle men in
quantity. Then he shot like a dart up side streets and made for
barracks by a detour.

"Gad!" said Warrington suddenly.

"Who's told 'em d'you suppose?"