ted.

"Walk," the officer replied promptly. "Be thankful if you reach there
at all; and keep to the main streets, especially if the lady is going
with you.

"Are there no police left?" Maraton demanded.

"We drafted most of them away to the riot centres. Then the train
service ceased, too, and they haven't been able to come back. Now we
have had an alarm from somewhere--I don't know where and we've got
orders to push troops towards the east coast. If you'll take my advice,
Mr. Selingman," the officer concluded, "you'll keep your name to
yourself for a little time. People who've been associated in any way
with Maraton are not too popular just now around here."

Some more officers had ridden up. Two were already in the car. Soon it
vanished in a cloud of dust on its way back. Julia, Selingman, Aaron
and Maraton were left in the road, along which the soldiers were still
marching. They started out to walk. Now and then a motor-car rattled
by, full of soldiers, but for the most part the streets were almost
empty. No one spoke to them or attempted to molest them in any way. As
they drew nearer London, however, the streets became more and more
crowded. Men in the middle of the road were addressing little knots of
listeners. There was a complete row of shops, the plate-glass windows
of which had been knocked in and the contents raided. They pushed
steadily onwards. Here and there, little groups of loiterers assumed a
threatening aspect. They came across the dead body of a man lying upon
the pavement. No one seemed to mind. Very few of the passers-by even
glanced at him. Selingman shivered.

"Ghastly!" he muttered. "This reminds me of the first days of the
French troubles. How quiet the people keep! They are tired of robbing
for money. It is food they want. A sandwich just now would be a
dangerous possession."

They reached Algate. There were still no trains running, and nearly all
the houses were tightly shuttered.

"Six weeks!" Maraton murmured to himself as he looked around. "Could
any one believe that this might happen in six weeks!"

"Why not?" Selingman demanded. "You stop the arteries of life when you
stop all communication from centre to centre. It's the most merciful
way, after all. Everything will be over the sooner."

They passed down Threadneedle Street, a wilderness with boards nailed up
in front of the great bank windows. A little further on there was the
usual crowd of people, but they were all hanging