But nobody had cared to live in the house since.

It was averred that it was haunted by the restless spirit of the poor man, and strange noises were said to issue from it at night.

Others declared that the ghost of the wife was seen flitting past the windows, and that she always carried a sick moaning child in her arms.

So ill a name had the house got by reason of these many stories that none would take it, and there was therefore none to interfere when, with a loud report and showers of dust and sparks, the whole place and the workshop at the side were blown up at the command of the Master Builder, and reduced to a pile of ruins.
In spite of all the excitement and fear caused by the spreading fire, the neighbours looked upon the Master Builder as an enthusiast and a madman, and upon James Harmer as a poor dupe, to allow such destruction of property.

No sooner were both sets of buildings destroyed than men were set to work with buckets and chains to drench the dusty heaps of the ruins with water, nor would the Master Builder permit the workers to slacken their efforts until the whole mass of demolished ruin was reduced to the condition of a soppy pulp.
By this time the day had broken; but the sun was partially obscured by the thick pall of smoke which hung in the air, whilst the ceaseless roar of the flames was becoming terrible in its monotony.
Backwards and forwards ran excited men and boys, always bringing fresh reports as to the alarming spread of the fire.