"What the devil is it?" he asked.  "A fire?  What a devil of a
row!"

They both craned their heads out of the window, straining to hear
what the policemen were shouting.  People were coming out of the side
streets, and standing in groups at the corners talking.

"What the devil is it all about?" said my brother's fellow lodger.

My brother answered him vaguely and began to dress, running with
each garment to the window in order to miss nothing of the growing
excitement.  And presently men selling unnaturally early newspapers
came bawling into the street: