Lane, and elsewhere slept solidly at their posts; how the Metropolitan
police slept on their beats; how thousands of men, women, and children
slept in the streets of South London, whither they had fled
panic-stricken that morning. Conquerors and conquered together, the
whole vast city slept that night as never perhaps before or since. After
a week of terror, of effort, of despair, and of debauchery, the sorely
stricken capital of the British Empire lay that night like a city of the
dead. England and her invaders were worn out.

At the flat we found Mrs. Van Homrey placidly knitting.

"Well, young folk," she said cheerily; "I've had all the news, and
there's nothing to be said; and--there's bath and bed waiting for you,
Conny. I shall bring you something hot in your room."

Ah, the kindly comfort of that motherly soul's words! It was but a few
hours since her "Conny" had stood by my side on ground that was
literally blood-soaked. Since the previous night we had both seen Death
in his most terrible guise; Death swinging his dripping scythe through
scores of lives at a stroke. We had been in England's riven heart
throughout the day of England's bitterest humiliation; and Mrs. Van
Homrey had bed and bath waiting, with "something hot" for Constance to
take in her room.

"But, Aunty, if you could have seen----"

"Dear child, I know it all." She patted her niece's shoulder, and I
noticed the rings and the shiny softness of her fingers. She saw at a
glance--indeed, had seen beforehand, in anticipation--the wrought-up,
exhausted condition Constance had reached. "I know it all, dear," she
said soothingly. "But the time has come for rest now. Nothing else is
any good till that is done with. Come, child. God will send better days
for England. First, we must rest."

So Constance turned to leave the room.

"And you?" she said to me.

"I will see to him. You run along, my dear," said her aunt. So Constance
took my hand.

"Good night, Dick. You have been very good and kind, and--patient. Good
night!"

There was no spare bedroom in that little flat, but the dear old lady
had actually made up a bed for me on a couch in the drawing-room, and
before she retired for the night she made me free of the bathroom, and
supplied me with towels and such like matters, and gave me cake and
cocoa; a delicious repast I thought it. And so, while crushed and beaten
London lay sleeping off its exhaustion, I slept under Constance Grey's
roof