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The Man On Putney Hill
Hesawmyface,andhaltedawkwardly.
"NodoubtlotswhohadmoneyhavegoneawaytoFrance,"hesaid. Heseemedtohesitatewhethertoapologise,metmyeyes,andwenton: "There’sfoodallabouthere. Cannedthingsinshops;wines,spirits,mineralwaters;andthewatermainsanddrainsareempty. Well,IwastellingyouwhatIwasthinking. "Here’sintelligentthings,"Isaid,"anditseemstheywantusforfood. First,they’llsmashusup—ships,machines,guns,cities,alltheorderandorganisation. Allthatwillgo. Ifwewerethesizeofantswemightpullthrough. Butwe’renot. It’salltoobulkytostop. That’sthefirstcertainty."Eh?"
Iassented.
"Itis;I’vethoughtitout.Verywell,then—next;atpresentwe’recaughtaswe’rewanted. AMartianhasonlytogoafewmilestogetacrowdontherun. AndIsawone,oneday,outbyWandsworth,pickinghousestopiecesandroutingamongthewreckage. Buttheywon’tkeepondoingthat. Sosoonasthey’vesettledallourgunsandships,andsmashedourrailways,anddoneallthethingstheyaredoingoverthere,theywillbegincatchingussystematic,pickingthebestandstoringusincagesandthings. That’swhattheywillstartdoinginabit. Lord!Theyhaven’tbegunonusyet. Don’tyouseethat?"
"Notbegun!"Iexclaimed.
"Notbegun. Allthat’shappenedsofaristhroughournothavingthesensetokeepquiet—worryingthemwithgunsandsuchfoolery. Andlosingourheads,andrushingoffincrowdstowheretherewasn’tanymoresafetythanwherewewere. Theydon’twanttobotherusyet.
