| BOOK ONE: THE COMING OF THE MARTIANS
CHAPTER 14: IN LONDON
 (continued)   "There's hosts of people driving into Kingston in traps and
 carts and things, with boxes of valuables and all that," he
 said.  "They come from Molesey and Weybridge and Walton,
 and they say there's been guns heard at Chertsey, heavy
 firing, and that mounted soldiers have told them to get off at
 once because the Martians are coming.  We heard guns firing
 at Hampton Court station, but we thought it was thunder.
 What the dickens does it all mean?  The Martians can't get
 out of their pit, can they?"    My brother could not tell him.    Afterwards he found that the vague feeling of alarm had
 spread to the clients of the underground railway, and that
 the Sunday excursionists began to return from all over the
 South-Western "lung"--Barnes, Wimbledon, Richmond Park,
 Kew, and so forth--at unnaturally early hours; but not a
 soul had anything more than vague hearsay to tell of.  Everyone connected with the terminus seemed ill-tempered.    About five o'clock the gathering crowd in the station was
 immensely excited by the opening of the line of communication, which is almost invariably closed, between the South-Eastern and the South-Western stations, and the passage of
 carriage trucks bearing huge guns and carriages crammed
 with soldiers.  These were the guns that were brought up
 from Woolwich and Chatham to cover Kingston.  There was
 an exchange of pleasantries: "You'll get eaten!"  "We're the
 beast-tamers!" and so forth.  A little while after that a squad
 of police came into the station and began to clear the public off
 the platforms, and my brother went out into the street again.    The church bells were ringing for evensong, and a squad of
 Salvation Army lassies came singing down Waterloo Road.
 On the bridge a number of loafers were watching a curious
 brown scum that came drifting down the stream in patches.
 The sun was just setting, and the Clock Tower and the Houses
 of Parliament rose against one of the most peaceful skies it
 is possible to imagine, a sky of gold, barred with long transverse stripes of reddish-purple cloud.  There was talk of a
 floating body.  One of the men there, a reservist he said he
 was, told my brother he had seen the heliograph flickering
 in the west. |