My stupor can scarcely have lasted beyond a few seconds. I felt
myself being choked by thick yellow fumes, and struggled out of
the debris to my feet. Somewhere behind me I felt fresh air. The
jambs of the window had fallen, and through the ragged rent the
smoke was pouring out to the summer noon. I stepped over the
broken lintel, and found myself standing in a yard in a dense and
acrid fog. I felt very sick and ill, but I could move my limbs, and I
staggered blindly forward away from the house.
A small mill-lade ran in a wooden aqueduct at the other side of
the yard, and into this I fell. The cool water revived me, and I had
just enough wits left to think of escape. I squirmed up the lade
among the slippery green slime till I reached the mill-wheel. Then I
wriggled through the axle hole into the old mill and tumbled on to
a bed of chaff. A nail caught the seat of my trousers, and I left a
wisp of heather-mixture behind me.
The mill had been long out of use. The ladders were rotten with
age, and in the loft the rats had gnawed great holes in the floor.
Nausea shook me, and a wheel in my head kept turning, while my
left shoulder and arm seemed to be stricken with the palsy. I looked
out of the window and saw a fog still hanging over the house and
smoke escaping from an upper window. Please God I had set the
place on fire, for I could hear confused cries coming from the
other side.
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