London was holding out doggedly and stolidly. Scores of houses watched
and waited for missing ones who would never return, the streets and the
river had taken their toll, in open spaces, in the parks, and on the
heaths many were shrouded. But the long black night held its secret
well. There had been some ruffianism and plundering at first. But what
was the use of plunder to the thief who could not dispose of his booty,
who could not exchange a rare diamond for so much as a mouthful of
bread? Some of them could not even find their way home, they had to
remain in the streets where there was the dread of the lifting blanket
and the certainty of punishment with the coming of the day.
But if certain houses mourned the loss of inmates, some had more than
their share. Belated women, frightened business girls, caught in the
fog had sought the first haven at hand, and there they were free to
remain. There were sempstresses in Mayfair, and delicately-nurtured
ladies in obscure Bloomsbury boarding-houses. Class distinction seemed
to be remote as the middle ages.
Scotland Yard, the local authorities, and the County Council had worked
splendidly together. Provisions were short, though a good deal of bread
and milk had with greatest difficulty been imported from outside the
radius of the scourge. Still the poor were suffering acutely, and the
cries of frightened children were heard in every street. A few days
more and the stoutest nerves must give way. Nobody could face such a
blackness and retain their senses for long. London was a city of the
blind. Sleep was the only panacea for the creeping madness.
There were few deeds of violence done. The most courageous, the most
bloodthirsty man grew mild and gentle before the scourge. Desperate
men prowled about in search of food, but they wanted nothing else.
Certainly they would not have attempted violence to get it.
Alarmists predicted that in a few hours life in London would be
impossible. For once they had reason on their side. Every hour the air,
or what passed for air, grew more poisonous. Men fancied a city with
six million corpses!
The calamity would kill big cities altogether. No great mass of people
would ever dare to congregate together again where manufacturers made
a hideous atmosphere overhead. It would be a great check upon the race
for gold. There was much justification for this morbid condition of
public feeling.
So the third long weary day dragged to an end, and people went to bed
in the old mechanical fashion hoping for better signs in the morning.
How many weary years since they had last seen the sunshine, colour,
anything?
There was a change from the black monotony some time after dawn. Most
people had nearly lost all sense of time when dawn ought to have been.
People were struggling back to their senses again, trying to pierce the
thick curtain that held everything in bondage. Doors were opened and
restless ones passed into the street.
Suddenly there was a smiting shock from somewhere, a deafening
splitting roar in the ears, and central London shivered. It was as if
some mighty explosion had taken place in space, and as if the same
concussion had been followed by a severe shock of earthquake.
Huge buildings shook and trembled, furniture was overturned, and from
every house came the smash of glass. Was this merely a fog or some
thick curtain that veiled the approaching dissolution of the world?
People stood still, trembling and wondering. And before the question
was answered, a strange thing, a modern miracle happened. A great arc
of the blackness peeled off and stripped the daylight bare before their
startled eyes.