It has been a joy to have you near. But
between ourselves," he added, lowering his voice, "you know what mobs
are. Take my advice and get back home for a time. We shall meet
again."

Selingman shook his head.

"I helped to light the torch," he declared. "I'll see it burn for a
while. I was in Paris through the last riots--a dirty sight it was!
You'll pull through this. Maybe we're better apart for a time. But
we'll see one another housed first," he added. "I want to know where
you all are."

There was no difficulty about shelter of a sort. The private hotels,
which were plentiful in the neighbourhood, were half empty, and supplied
rooms readily enough, although they were curiously apathetic about the
matter. At each one of them the charges for food were enormous.
Maraton divided a bundle of notes into half and made Aaron take one
portion.

"Look after Julia," he directed, "and I think you'd better keep away
from me. A good many of them knew that you were my secretary. Look
after your sister. Keep quiet for a time. Wait."

He tore a sheet of paper from his pocket-book, wrote a few lines upon it
and twisted it up.

"You will find an address in New York there," he said. "If anything
happens to me, go over and present it in person."

Aaron took it almost mechanically. His eyes scarcely for a second had
left his master's face.

"Let me stay here," he begged, "if it's only an attic. There may be
work to be done. Let me stay, sir. My little bit of life is of no more
account to me than a snap of the fingers. Don't send me away. Julia's
a woman--they won't hurt her. She can go back to her old rooms. The
streets are quite orderly. Let me stay, sir!"

"No one seemed to notice us come in," Julia pleaded. "Let me stay, too.
You heard what the porter said--we could choose what rooms we liked. It
is safer in this part of London than in the East End, and you know," she
added, looking at him steadily, "that if there is trouble to come, I
have no fear."

Maraton hesitated. Perhaps they were as well where they were, under
shelter. He nodded.

"Very well," he agreed. "There seems to be no one to show us about. We
will go and select rooms."

In the hall they passed a man in the livery of the hotel. Maraton
enquired the way to the telephone, but he only shook his head.

"Telephone isn't working, sir," he announced, "not to private
subscribers, at any rate. They haven't answered a call for two days."

"Are any meals being