"But the _railway_, man. What----" The guard coughed. "Some of them's a bit 'asty, sir, likewise uncontrollable. It seems that they broke into the publics about midnight and 'ave been making a night of it, so to speak. They've sent for the soldiers, but they 'aven't arrived yet. And they've tore up some of the track. The breakdown gang is repairing it, but it will be an hour or so before we can get on." "D'you hear that?" "Rather," said Tony, getting up. "Let's go and have a look. I've never seen a raging mob." "Better not, sir," advised the guard. "The town's not safe." "They may listen to me," said Tony with simple grandeur. He turned to his companion. "Do you feel like playing with fire?" The little man's eyes sparkled and he breathed quickly. He hesitated a moment with natural caution. Then---- "Yes," he said briefly. "Dash it! I--I feel as if I were beginning to live!" Tony laughed and opened the door. The guard sighed. "Well, gentlemen," he said, "don't say I didn't warn you. Anyhow, I'd advise you to leave your money behind and your watches, too." "The man's a perfect Solon," said Tony, feeling in his trousers pocket. "Here, guard, seven pounds three ... and a watch. If I perish, you may keep them, but remember that the watch needs winding night and morning." The guard gazed dumbly at the evening dress. Then he turned to the other man, "You anything, sir?" "N--nothing that matters," was the confused reply. "Come on! let's make a move!" "Broke!" thought Tony. "But he hasn't tried to touch me yet. What a day out!" CHAPTER X HOW TO DRESS ON NOTHING A YEAR The two men left the station and began to walk sharply toward the town, which was close at hand. The first street they entered was deserted, but evidence of the strike lay open to the shamed sky. Lamps, it is true, still stood erect, but their glass was shattered; missiles and rubbish littered the roadway, shop-windows had not a pane left whole, and here and there makeshift screens of boards replaced or protected the windows. It was a scene of ruin, complete and piteous. The most curious feature was that not a soul was in the street: everything was still and lonely. In the next street a similar spectacle met them--ruin and solitude. In a third, the same. In a fourth, the same. It was as if a battle had taken place, or rather as if the town had been sacked and cleared by an invading army, which had passed on like a destroying angel, leaving signs of its progress, and signs alone. "This is deuced odd," was Tony's comment--"deuced odd. The ruin does not surprise, for everything is possible in this age of Socialism. But is the spirit of curiosity dead? If so, _that_ will be 'the end of all things.' Surely everybody can not be murdered or afraid to come out. Surely we shall light upon at least one brand from the burning--some pathetic, interesting, interested spectator. If it were but a man drunk in the gutter...."