That smoke was lighter than the air; its thick pall lifted by degrees and
revealed three figures.
Grace Hope, by happy instinct, had sunk upon the ground to breathe in
that stifling smoke. Hope, who had collared Ben Burnley, had sunk to the
ground with him, but still clutched the assassin. These were the three
left alive in the hall, and this was their first struggle for life.
As soon as it was possible to speak Hope took up his lamp, which had
fallen, and holding it up high, he cried, "Grace, my child, where are
you?" She came to him directly; he took her in his arms and thanked God
for this great preservation.
Then he gave Burnley a kick, and ordered him to the right hand of the
hall. "You'll keep to that side," he said, "and think of what you have
done; your victims will keep this side, and comfort each other till
honest men undo your work, you villain."
Burnley crouched, and wriggled away like a whipped hound, and flung
himself down in bitter despair.
"Oh, papa," said Grace, "we have escaped a great danger, but shall we
ever see the light of day?"
"Of course we shall, child; be sure that great efforts will be made to
save us.
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