“Rather a pity—for me, I mean. One does like to explain what one has done; and there’s no chance of that now.”
It seemed to me a pity that this enthusiast should be lost. Probably Nordenholt could find some use for him.
“I think I could put you in touch with some other chemists if you like; but you would need to trust me in the matter. Is there anyone depending on you, any relatives?”
“No, they’re all gone by now.”
“Well, I think I might manage it. I believe I could put you in the way of being some use; and it might be the saving of your life, too, for I suppose your food is almost out.”
A famished look came into his face and I realised what food meant to him.
“Could you? I’d be awfully grateful. I’m down to the laboratory stores of glycerine and fatty acids now for nourishment, and it’s pretty thin, I can tell you. Could you really do something?”
In his excitement, he clutched my arm: and at that he recoiled with a look of horror on his face.
“You damned cannibal!” he cried. “Did you think you would take me in? I suppose your friend was standing by with the sandbag, eh?”
He retreated a few steps and cursed me with almost hysterical violence.
“If I had a pistol I would finish you,” he cried. “You don’t deserve to live. And to think you nearly took me in. I suppose you would have enticed me to your den with that fairytale of yours.”
And with an indescribable sound of disgust he turned and ran up Margaret Court, cursing as he went.
“What’s all that about?” I asked Glendyne. “It’s more than Greek to me.”
“Of course you wouldn’t understand. I forgot that you people up in the North don’t know there’s a famine on. Don’t you see that when he gripped your sleeve he found a normal arm inside instead of a starved one; and he drew the natural conclusion.”
“What natural conclusion?”
“Really, Flint, you are a bit obtuse. You know that food here is almost unprocurable except by those who have rationed themselves carefully from the start and have still some stores to go on with. How do you think the rest of them live? Of course the poor beggar found you in normal condition and he jumped to the conclusion that you were a cannibal like a large number of the survivors. What else could he think? He imagined that we were holding him in talk until we could sandbag him or knock him out somehow for the sake of his valuable carcase. See now?”
This seemed to be the last straw. Curiously enough, I had never given a thought to the food problem. I had simply assumed that these people in the streets were living on hoarded stores. Cannibalism! I had never dreamed of such a thing in London, even this London.
Glendyne laughed sarcastically at the expression on my face. “Why, you are nearly as innocent as my poor clerical friend,” he said at last. “Can’t you understand that nothing counts nowadays. There isn’t any law, or order, or public opinion or anything else that might restrain brutes. You’ve got the final argument of civilisation in your pocket—a brace of them, besides the loose cartridges—and that’s the King and the Law Courts nowadays. The only thing left is the strong hand; everything else has gone long ago. For the most of the survivors there isn’t any morality or ethics or public spirit. They simply want to live and enjoy themselves; and they don’t care how they do it. Get that well into your head, Flint.”
Over the next part of our exploration I may draw a veil. We traversed the stretch from Oxford Circus to Regent Circus, which was the centre of the remaining life of London in those days. One cannot describe the details of saturnalia; and I leave the matter at that. It surpassed my wildest anticipations. At Piccadilly Circus I found a gigantic negro acting as priest in some Voodoo mysteries. The court of Burlington House had been turned into a temple of Khama. I was glad indeed when we were able to make our way into the less frequented squares to the north. Even the quiet skeletons seemed more akin to me than these wretches whom I saw exulting in their devilry. Glendyne had underestimated the thing when he said that there was no public opinion left to control men and women. There was a new public opinion based on the principle of “Eat, Drink, for tomorrow we die”; and the collective spirit of these crowds urged humanity on to excesses which no single individual would have dared.
We came to the Langham by Cavendish Square and Chandos Street. As we stood at the hotel door, I could see the lights of the bonfires and hear the yells and shrieks of the revellers at the Circus; but Langham Place was comparatively quiet. Eastward, the sky was ruddy with the flames of the burning city; southward, the bonfires shone crimson against the pale moonlight; to the north, up Portland Place, the streets were half in shadow and half lit up by the brilliancy of the moon.
We walked northward, taking the unshadowed side of the road. Glendyne had shown me the worst now, and only the return to our car remained before us. I drew a breath of relief as we turned the bend of Langham Place and the bulk of the Langham Hotel cut us off from the sight of these lights behind us. Here, under the moon, things seemed purer and more peaceful.
We came to the corner of Duchess Street without seeing anyone; but just as we reached the crossing, a familiar figure stepped out. It was Lady Angela. This time I could see her plainly in the moonlight; a tall, chestnut-haired girl, beautiful certainly, but with the beauty of an animal type, tigress-like. Her dress was torn and a splash of fresh blood lay across her breast. In her
