So gathering her white cloak, she sped like a ghost, he following, to the south-west tower. Not stairs but inclined planes circled upwards, an easy hill, to where a flight of steps gave on the roof, and one looked out over London. This night began the great gale, and already, far down beneath, the trees were lashing and swaying. Low above trailed the flame-lighted clouds, the wind was roaring round the tower walls, and red embers flashed past in the smoke. The gale swept by in gusts, fiery hot, then of a sudden, icy cold, then slanting hot again. Right up against the wind, Belgravia was in flames, and down to leeward, the whole district of the Strand glowed like a furnace. Spiral columns of flame went reeling eastwards, then lifting clear from their base, rolled up and burst. And over all the roar of wind and fire one heard the screaming machine guns crushing out the Republican revolt. "Madam," cried the trooper, "come away, this is too horrible for any woman." "For any woman? Sir Patrick, are there not thousands of women yonder?" Our Lady turned, the flame-light on her face. "Do you think I care? Do you think I suffer? Dear lad," she turned away again with a wan little laugh, "I don't care now, I'm an old, old woman--past caring any more. Let me rest here." The trooper laid his cloak in a sheltered place, and there for a long time she sat, crouched down, all shrunk into the corner, staring at the flames. Was this the Margaret who seven weeks ago held court of Love in her gardens, Queen of the May, loading grave officers of the Palace with wreaths and garlands, then with the mischievous gravity of a fairy, tootling a jig on the pan pipes while the Lord Great Chamberlain danced! Margaret crouched down in a corner, haggard with sleepless misery, staring with great wild eyes on the burning of London! The sentries were calling from salient to salient, bastion to bastion. "Number one, all's well!" "Number two, all's well!" "Number three, all's well!" Then faintly in the distance of the gardens, "Number four, all's well!" Forty-five gentlemen of the corps had fallen in the confused fighting of these last two days; many more had been sent away by yacht, or by road with messages on the business of the State. How we grudged every man who was taken away from guarding Margaret. We all had our private troubles--those who were dear to us did not escape ruin and hunger, and one trooper who visited his home, came back to the Palace insane. These matters we kept to ourselves, but there was an understanding in the mess that each man must keep his life at our Lady's service so long as she had need of the Guard. This had been midsummer day, the longest in all the year; but Margaret was at work from dawn to dusk, and her Ministers had barely time for food.