The heat, the crush, the tumult of sound, his own intense emotion proved almost too much for the Colonel. He leaned against the wall with closed eyes, but there was joy in his heart. "Done it," he muttered. "That was England speaking." Then somebody led him out into the fresh air. "They're all right, sir," said a voice comfortably in his ear. "Joe done the trick. Grand he was." Some of the Labour extremists recognised him as he lolled against the wall, hat over his eyes, recalled his work for the National Service League, and gathered round for the worry. "That's him.--Militarist!--Brought the trouble on us! He won't pay.--Leaves that for us to do!--Drunk as a lord!--On the blood of the workers." The Colonel heard the words, but paid no heed. They fell on his mind like rain-drops on a sea which absorbs them unconsciously as it sways and drifts listlessly to and fro. Then another voice, familiar this time, and strangely fierce, clashed with those of his would-be persecutors. "None of it now! Want one for yourself, do you? Stand back there! Give him a chance to breathe! Ought to be ashamed, some of you." The Colonel opened his eyes to find Ernie standing over him. "Ah, Caspar," he said faintly. Then Ruth came swiftly out of the dissipating crowd towards them. She was flashing, glorious, with tumultuous bosom. Swept by her emotion she forgot for the moment the undeclared war that was raging between this lean old man and herself: she did not even notice his distress. "He's such a battler, Joe is!" she cried. All that was combative in the Colonel rose desperately to grip and fight the same qualities in her. "He's not the only one," he said feebly, and musing with a vacuous smile on the strange medley of vast world-tragedy and tiny domestic drama sank slowly into unconsciousness, Ernie's arm about him, Ernie's kind face anxious above him. "Watch it, Caspar!" he whispered. "Danger!" He came round slowly to hear voices wrangling above him. "I had to come to the meeting. I promised Joe," the woman was saying. "What about the children?" There was silence: then the man went on with a cold sneer. "Little Alice, I suppose. Little Alice got to do it all these days." "Little Alice is mine," the woman retorted. "If you're not satisfied with the way your--" The Colonel sat up. "For God's sake!" he cried. CHAPTER XXX THE END OF THE WORLD The next day was Bank Holiday; and such a holiday as no living man had known or would ever know again. Half the world had already tumbled into hell; and the other half was poised breathless on the brink, awaiting the finger-push that should send it too roaring down to death. On that brilliant summer day nations crouched in the stubble like coveys of partridges beneath the shadow of some great hawk hovering far away in the blue. A silence like a cloud enveloped England.