to a beach, small and crescent-shaped. The fire blazed with a destructive violence in a structure on this beach. He recalled the driver's gossip about Alden's yacht. He saw a small launch, heavily-laden, making for the open sea.
"The boat house," he said.
"Yes," Nora answered. "Look."
She drew a little back. An explosion tore at their ears. Somewheres upstairs a window broke. The tinkling of glass was like an absurdly attenuated echo. But Garth's attention was fixed on the boat-house. The building appeared to disintegrate. Out of its ruins rose a colossal column of muddy smoke. From its summit streaming banners of purple and violet flame unfurled. They waved their frantic message to Garth. He turned, gaping, to Nora.
"That building!" he gasped. "It's crowded with gasolene—oil!"
"You didn't guess, Jim? You see now I couldn't take chances. I had to light the signal that made them fire this."
"And you were right," he agreed. "Only the two of us—"
He gazed at her wonderingly. There was only pride in his voice.
"How many lives! How many millions of dollars! You've spared them, Nora."
Garth had lifted Alden to the sofa and had left Nora hovering over the man who, they knew now,
