Such a rabble was it that I remember that my first thought was of pitying indulgence. So this was the grand outcome of Boris Grogoff's eloquence, and the Rat's plots for plunder!--a fitting climax to such vain dreams. I saw the Cossack, that ebony figure of Sunday night. Ten such men, and this rabble was dispersed for ever! I felt inclined to lean over and whisper to them, "Quick! quick! Go home!... They'll be here in a moment and catch you!"
And yet, after all, there seemed to be some show of discipline. I noticed that, as the crowd moved forward, men dropped out and remained picketing the doorways of the street. Women seemed to be playing a large part in the affair, peasants with shawls over their heads, many of them leading by the hand small children.
Burrows treated it all as a huge joke. "By Jove," he cried, speaking across to me, "Durward, it's like that play Martin Harvey used to do--what was it?--about the French Revolution, you know."
"'The Only Way,'" said Peroxide, in a prim strangled voice.
"That's it--'The Only Way'--with their red flags and all. Don't they look ruffians, some of them?"
There was a great discussion going on under our windows. All the lorries had drawn up together, and the screaming, chattering, and shouting was like the noise of a parrots' aviary. The cold blue light had climbed now into the sky, which was thick with stars; the snow on the myriad roofs stretched like a filmy cloud as far as the eye could see. The moving, shouting crowd grew with every moment mistier.
"Oh, dear! Mr. Burrows," said the little typist, who was not Peroxide. "Do you think I shall ever be able to get home? We're on the other side of the river, you know. Do you think the bridges will be up? My mother will be so terribly anxious."
"Oh, you'll get home all right," answered Burrows cheerfully. "Just wait until this crowd has gone by. I don't expect there's any fuss down by the river..."
His words were cut short by some order from one of the fellows below. Others shouted in response, and the lorries again began to move forward.
"I believe he was shouting to us," said Bohun. "It sounded like 'Get off' or 'Get away.'"
"Not he!" said Burrows; "they're too busy with their own affairs."