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In London
ThesoundofdrummingandtrumpetingcamefromtheAlbanyStreetBarracks,andeverychurchwithinearshotwashardatworkkillingsleepwithavehementdisorderlytocsin. Therewasanoiseofdoorsopening,andwindowafterwindowinthehousesoppositeflashedfromdarknessintoyellowillumination.
Upthestreetcamegallopingaclosedcarriage,burstingabruptlyintonoiseatthecorner,risingtoaclatteringclimaxunderthewindow,anddyingawayslowlyinthedistance. Closeontherearofthiscameacoupleofcabs,theforerunnersofalongprocessionofflyingvehicles,goingforthemostparttoChalkFarmstation,wheretheNorth-Westernspecialtrainswereloadingup,insteadofcomingdownthegradientintoEuston.
Foralongtimemybrotherstaredoutofthewindowinblankastonishment,watchingthepolicemenhammeringatdoorafterdoor,anddeliveringtheirincomprehensiblemessage. Thenthedoorbehindhimopened,andthemanwholodgedacrossthelandingcamein,dressedonlyinshirt,trousers,andslippers,hisbraceslooseabouthiswaist,hishairdisorderedfromhispillow.
"Whatthedevilisit?"heasked."Afire?Whatadevilofarow!"
Theybothcranedtheirheadsoutofthewindow,strainingtohearwhatthepolicemenwereshouting. Peoplewerecomingoutofthesidestreets,andstandingingroupsatthecornerstalking.
"Whatthedevilisitallabout?"saidmybrother’sfellowlodger.
Mybrotheransweredhimvaguelyandbegantodress,runningwitheachgarmenttothewindowinordertomissnothingofthegrowingexcitement. Andpresentlymensellingunnaturallyearlynewspaperscamebawlingintothestreet:
