I was still dazzled by the promotion he had promised me; and I thanked him for it, again and again. When I left him, my mind was still full of it all. I don’t know that I felt the responsibility at first; it was rather the chance of bringing things nearer to that dream-city which we had built upon the clouds, that I felt most strongly. I had no doubt that I could lay the foundations securely; and upon them Elsa could build those fragile upper courses in which she delighted. It would be our own Fata Morgana, but reared by human hands. So I dreamed.... CHAPTER XII Nuit Blanche The aeroplane which carried me southward alighted on the Hendon flying-ground when dusk was falling. As we crossed Hertfordshire I had seen in front of me, to the south-east, a great pall of cloud which seemed to hang above the city; and as the daylight faded, this curtain became lit up with a red glow like the sky above a blast-furnace. When we landed, I found that all arrangements had already been made by Nordenholt; for after I had removed my flying kit an untidy-looking, unshaven man made his appearance, who introduced himself as my guide for the night. He advised me to have a meal and try to snatch a little sleep before we started. We dined together in one of the buildings--for Nordenholt had spared the Hendon aerodrome in the general destruction of the exodus, though he had burned all the aeroplanes which were there at the time--and during the meal my guide gave me hints as to my behaviour while I was under his charge, so that I might not attract attention under the new conditions. Above all, he warned me not to show any surprise at anything I might see. After I had dozed for a time, he reappeared and insisted on rubbing some burnt cork well into my skin under the eyes and on my cheeks, and also giving my hands and the rest of my face a lighter treatment with the same medium. “You look far too well-fed and clean to pass muster here. There’s very little soap left now; and most of us don’t shave. Must make you look the part.” He handed me two ·45 Colt pistols and a couple of loaded spare magazines. “Shove these extra cartridges into a handy pocket as well. The Colts are loaded and there’s an extra cartridge in the breech of each. That gives you eighteen shots without reloading; and sixteen more when you snick in the fresh magazines. You know how to do it? Pull down the safety catches. If you have to shoot, shoot at once; and shoot in any case of doubt. Don’t stop to argue.”