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And to the left, between the railway and the
dark mass of the low hill beyond, dominating the whole view, colossal,
inky-black, and crowned with smoke and fitful flames, stood the great
cylinders of the Jeddah Company Blast Furnaces, the central edifices of
the big ironworks of which Horrocks was the manager. They stood heavy and
threatening, full of an incessant turmoil of flames and seething molten
iron, and about the feet of them rattled the rolling-mills, and the
steam-hammer beat heavily and splashed the white iron sparks hither and
thither. Even as they looked, a truckful of fuel was shot into one of the
giants, and the red flames gleamed out, and a confusion of smoke and black
dust came boiling upwards towards the sky.
"Certainly you get some colour with your furnaces," said Raut, breaking a
silence that had become apprehensive.
Horrocks grunted. He stood with his hands in his pockets, frowning down at
the dim steaming railway and the busy ironworks beyond, frowning as if he
were thinking out some knotty problem.


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