Evacuation

           ItwasthememoryoftheredheadedyoungmanwhohadfiredonusthatconditionedmychoiceofaroutetoWestminster.

           SinceIwassixteenmyinterestinweaponshasdecreased,butinanenvironmentrevertingtosavageryitseemedthatonemustbepreparedtobehavemoreorlessasasavage,orpossiblyceasetobehaveatall,beforelong.InSt.James’sStreetthereusedtobeseveralshopswhichwouldsellyouanyformoflethalness,fromarookrifletoanelephantgun,withthegreatesturbanity.

           Ilefttherewithamixedfeelingofsupportandbanditry.OncemoreIhadausefulhuntingknife.Therewasapistolwiththepreciseworkmanshipofascientificinstrumentinmypocket.Ontheseatbesidemerestedaloadedtwelve-boreandboxesofcartridges.Ihadchosenashotguninpreferencetoarifle—thebangisnolessconvincing,anditalsodecapitatesatriffidwithaneatnesswhichabulletseldomachieves.AndthereweretriffidstobeseenrightinLondonnow.Theystillappearedtoavoidthestreetswhentheycould,butIhadnoticedseverallumberingacrossHydePark,andtherewereothersintheGreenPark.Verylikelytheywereornamental,safelydockedspecimens—ontheotherhand,maybetheyweren’t.

           AndsoIcametoWestminster.

           Thedeadness,thefinishofitall,wasitalicizedthere.Theusualscatterofabandonedvehicleslayaboutthestreets.Veryfewpeoplewereabout—Isawonlythreewhoweremoving.TwoweretappingtheirwaydowntheguttersofWhitehall,thethirdwasinParliamentSquare.