The house burned an hour before midnight on the last day of April. The wild, distant ringing of the fire bells woke George Hazard. He stumbled through the dark hallway, then upstairs to the mansion tower, and stepped outside onto the narrow balcony. A strong, warm wind blew, strengthening the flames and intensifying their light. Even from this height above the town named Lehigh Station, he recognized the blazing house — the only substantial one remaining in the seedy section near the canal.

He raced down to his dimly lighted bedroom and grabbed clothing with hardly more than a glance. He tried to dress quietly but inevitably woke his wife, Constance. She had fallen asleep reading Scripture — not her own Douay version but one of the Hazard family Bibles, into which she'd slipped her rosary before closing the book and kissing George good night. Since the fall of Fort Sumter and the outbreak of war, Constance had spent more than her usual time with the Bible.

"George, where are you rushing?"

"There's a fire in town. Don't you hear the alarms?"

Still sleepy, she rubbed her eyes. "But you don't chase the pump engines whenever the bell rings."

"The place belongs to Fenton, one of my best foremen. There's been trouble in his household lately. The fire may be no accident." He bent and kissed her warm cheek. "Go to sleep. I'll be back in bed in an hour."

He turned off the gas and moved swiftly downstairs and to the stable. He saddled a horse himself; it was far faster than waking a groom, and concern spurred him to haste.