Remeu- of Reviews, 1/10/06. 



in the Days of the Gomet. 



415 



nothing, so that it had rather th^ form of a bellying 

 puff of luminous smoke with an intenser, brighter 

 heart. It rose, a hot, yellow colour, and only began 

 to show its distinctive greenness when it was clear 

 of the mists of evening. 



It compelled attention for a space. For all my 

 earthlv concentration of mind, I could but stare at 

 it for a moment with a vague anticipation that, after 

 all, in some wav, so strange and glorious an object 

 must have significance, could not possibly be a 

 matter of absolute indifference to the scheme and 

 values of my life. 



But hoT\'? 



I thought of Parload. I thought of the panic and 

 uneasiness that were spreading in this very matter, 

 and of the assurances of scientific men that the thing 

 weighed so little, at the utmost a few hundred tons 

 of thinly diffused gas and du'st, that even were it to 

 smite this earth fully, nothing could possibly ensue. 

 And, after all, said I, what earthly significance has 

 anyone found in the stars ? 



Then, as one still descended, the houses and 

 buildings rose up, the presence of those watching 

 groups of people, the tension of the situation : and 

 one forgot the sky. 



Preoccupied with myself and with my dark dream 

 about Nettie and my honour, I threaded my course 

 through the stagnating threat of this gathering, and 

 was caught unawares, when suddenlv the whole 

 scene flashed into drama. 



The attention of even,-one swung round with an 

 irresistible magnetism toward High Street, and caught 

 me as a rush of waters might catch a wisp of hay. 

 Abruptly the whole crowd was sounding one note. 

 It was not a word, it was a sound that mingled threat 

 and protest, something between a prolonged " Ah !" 

 and " Ugh !" Then, with a hoarse intensity of 

 anger, came a low, heavy booing, " Boo ! boo — oo !" 

 a note stupidly expressive of animal savagery. " Toot, 

 toot!' said Lord Redcar's automobile in ridiculous 

 repartee. " Toot, toot !" One heard it whizzing 

 and throbbing as the crowd obliged it to slow down. 



Everybody seemed in motion toward the colliery 

 gate, I, too, with the others, 



I heard a shout. Through the dark figures about 

 me I saw the motor-car stop and move forward 

 again, and had a glimpse of something writhing on 

 the ground. 



It was alleged afterward that Lord Redcar was 

 driving, and that he quite deliberately knocked down 

 a little boy who would not get out of his way. It is 

 asserted with equal confidence that the boy was a 

 man who tried to pass across the front of the 

 motor-car as it came slowly through the crowd, and 

 who escaped by a hair's breadth, and then slipped 

 on the tram rail and fell down. I have both ac- 

 counts set forth, under screaming headlines, in two 

 ef these sere newspapers upon my desk. No one 

 could ever ascertain the truth. Indeed, in such a 

 blind tumult of passion, could there be any truth? 



There was a rush forward, the horn of the car 

 sounded, everything swayed violently to the right 

 for perhaps ten yards or so, and there was a report 

 like a pistol shot. 



For a moment everyone seemed running away. A 

 woman, carrying a shawl-wrapped child, blundered 

 into me, and sent me reeling back. Everyone 

 thought of firearms, but, as a matter of fact, some- 

 thing had gone wrong with the motor, what in those 

 old-fashioned contrivances was called a back fire. 

 .\ thin puff of bluish smoke hung in the air behind 

 the thing. The majority of the people scattered 

 back in a disorderly fashion and left a clear space 

 about the struggle that centred upon the motor-car. 



The man or boy who had fallen was lying on the- 

 ground with no one near him, a black lump, an ex- 

 tended arm and two sprawling feet. The motor-car 

 had stopi^ed, and its three occupants w'ere standing 

 up. .Six or seven black figures surrounded the car, 

 and appeared to be holding on to it as if to prevent 

 it from starting again. One — it was Mitchell, a 

 well-known labour leader — argued in fierce, low tones 

 with Lord Redcar. I could not hear anything they 

 said : I was not near enough. Behind me the col-_ 

 lier\' gates were open, and there was a sense of help- 

 coming to the motor-car from that direction. There 

 was an unoccupied, muddy space for fifty yards, per- 

 haps, between car and gate, and then the wheels and 

 head of the pit rose black against the sky. I was 

 one of a rude semicircle of people that hung as 

 yet indeterminate in action about this dispute. 



It was natural, I suppose, that my fingers should 

 close upon the revolver in my pocket. 



I advanced with the vaguest intentions in the world, 

 and not so quickly but that several men hurried 

 past me to join the little knot holding up the car. 



Lord Redcar, in his big, furry overcoat, towered 

 up over the group about him ; his gestures were 

 free and threatening, and his voice loud. He made 

 a tine figure there, I must admit ; he was a big, fair, 

 handsome young man with a fine tenor voice and 

 an instinct for gallant effect. My eyes were drawn 

 to him at first wholly. He seemed a symbol, a 

 triumphant symbol, of all that the theory of aristo- 

 cracy claims, of all that filled my soul with resent- 

 ment. His chauffeur sat crouched together, peering 

 at the crowd under his lordship's ami. But Mitchell 

 showed as a sturdy figure also, and his voice was firm 

 and loud. 



" You've hurt that lad," said Mitchell, over and 

 over again. '' You'll wait here till vou see if he's 

 hurt." 



" I'll wait here or not, as I please," said Redcar; 

 and to the chauffeur, " Here ! get down and look,at 

 it!" 



'' You'd better not get down, ' .said Mitchell ; and 

 the chauffeur stood bent and hesitating on the step. 



The man on the back seat stood up, leaned for- 

 ward, and spoke to Lord Redcar. and for the first 

 time my attention was drawn to him. It was young 



