was now presented to me. It seemed
impossible that so terrible a change should have come over a city in so
short a time (I must remind you here that I still believed that only
twenty hours had elapsed since I had had my fatal interview with
Pharos). In all Park Lane not a house, save that occupied by Pharos,
showed any sign of being inhabited. Without exception the blinds were
down, and in most cases the shutters had been put up, while in numerous
instances broad lines of red paint had been drawn across the pavement
opposite them, but for what purpose, or their indication, I had not the
remotest idea. In Piccadilly, from Apsley House to Berkeley Street, it
was the same, though here a few solitary foot-passengers were to be
seen. Thinking I must have mistaken the hour, and that it was earlier
than I supposed, I looked at my watch, but it said a quarter to ten. In
vain I searched for a cab of any sort. In the road, usually so crowded
at that hour with vehicles of all descriptions, omnibuses, hansoms,
private carriages, vans, and even costermongers' barrows, two dogs were
fighting over a piece of food. But the silence was the worst part of it
all. Not a sound, save the chirruping of the sparrows in the trees of
the park, was to be heard. Realising that it was useless waiting for a
cab, I crossed the road and entered the Green Park, intending to make my
way to St. James's Park, and thence to the Home Office. With feverish
haste I pushed on, walking as if every life in England depended on my
speed.

Reaching the Mall, I crossed into St. James's Park and passed over the
bridge which spans the lake. Here the water-birds were swimming about as
happily as if nothing out of the common were occurring in the great city
around them. At last I reached the office for which I was making. The
Home Secretary at the time was a man I had known all my life, an
upright, honest Englishman in every sense of the word, beloved by
everybody, and respected even by his political opponents. If any man
would listen to my story, I felt convinced he would be that one. When,
however, I reached the office, what a change was there! Only the day
before, as I still imagined, the place had been teeming with life, every
room filled with clerks, and exhibiting all the machinery of a great
Government office. Now, at first glance, it appeared deserted. I entered
the hall in which I had been accustomed to inquire from the porter for
my friend, only to find it oc