So passed Tuesday, August the fourth; the suspense of the ultimatum, and then the fifth, with "WAR" flaring in great letters on the bookstall posters. The station was crowded with the general exodus. All the Vernley household were going up to town. The platform was a scene of good-byes. Hatless lads were bidding one another cheerful farewells, the girls, jerseyed and laughing, hung on their arms. There was an air of suppressed excitement; they might have been going to a picnic, but deeper observation revealed a nervous tension. At Boston, Marsh left them to go on to his people. He had been very silent for the last two days. He said good-bye gravely. Only to John did he unburden himself in the last minute. "This is the end of us all, Scissors. This war will go on for years. We shall be worked up into a fierce hate. The Press will keep it going, it'll get bloodier and bloodier--and no one will win in the end. There'll be nothing but widows and cripples, famine and debt. Good-bye, Scissors, write to me at home." They shook hands; neither dared say more. The next minute, the train moved out, leaving Marsh standing amid his luggage, raising his hat to them, a graceful figure of youth, outwardly calm. Intensity increased when they reached London. They all parted hurriedly. Bobbie was going to enlist at once, Tod had received orders. Lindon hoped to get out as a despatch rider. John, what was he going to do? He did not know, he was bewildered. In his head there was only one idea, to get to Belgium at all costs, to find Muriel, from whom no word had been received. At his rooms he found a wire from Merritt, bidding him call. Walsh saw him at once. His wish was miraculously fulfilled. He was to leave immediately for Belgium as special correspondent of the _Daily Post_. BOOK V THE NEW WORLD CHAPTER I I