I shall never forget that nightmare chase. Once I turned round and fired to gain time if possible. I heard Glendyne’s pistol also, more than once. But nothing seemed to check the pursuit. I felt it gaining on me; and the silver horn sounded always nearer each time it blew. It was no distance that we ran, but the pace was killing. I was afraid that we might be cut off by a fresh party emerging from Cavendish Street or Weymouth Street; but we passed these in safety. I learned afterwards that Herne’s band hunted like hounds, in a body, never separating into sections. Their pleasure was in the chase as much as anything; and they employed no strategy to trap their victims. Just south of Devonshire Street I stumbled and fell. Glendyne wheeled round at once and tried to keep off the pack with his pistols; but as I rose to my feet again I saw them still coming on. The moon showed up their brutal faces hardly twenty yards away. I had given myself up for lost, when Glendyne shouted: “Lie down!” and rolled me over with his hand on my shoulder while he flung himself face downwards on the road. A dazzling glare shone in my eyes and passed; and then I saw a motor swinging in the road and the squat shape of a Lewis gun projected over its side. I turned over and saw the pack almost upon us. Then came the roll of the Lewis gun and the maniacs stopped as though they had struck some invisible barrier. Herne crashed to the ground. Lady Angela staggered, stood for a moment fumbling with her horn, and then fell face downward. The remainder of the band turned and fled into Weymouth Street. Glendyne picked himself up and went across to Lady Angela’s body. She was quite dead, at which he seemed relieved. I understood better when I saw one of the men in the patrol car going round amongst the wounded and finishing them with his revolver. Sanderson, the patrol leader, spoke a few words to Glendyne; and then the car swung off into Park Crescent and disappeared. The whole thing had taken only a few seconds; and we were left alone with the dead. “It’s all right now, Flint,” said Glendyne. “They won’t dare to come back. Besides, the leaders are gone”--he kicked the negro’s body--“and they were the worst. I’ll take this as a souvenir, I think.” He picked up the little silver horn; and I wondered what it would remind him of in later days. It was in Park Crescent that I got my last glimpse of the new London. On the pavement, half-way round to Copeland Road Station, I saw something moving; and on examining it closely I found that it was a dying man. All about him were rats which were attacking him, while he feebly tried to keep them at bay. He was too weak to defend himself and already he had been badly bitten. There was nothing to be done; but Glendyne and I stood beside him till he died, while the rats huddled in a circle about him, waiting their chance. Glendyne kept them back by flashing his electric torch on them when they became too venturesome.