Chapter XXI: Part 21

“Well, I’ve just had about four or five months of it,” said Mr. Golspie, indifferently, “and that was quite enough for me. They’re half dead, most of ’em--half dead. No dash. No guts. I want a place where everybody’s alive, where there’s something doing.”

“Where were you in London?”

“What--working? Well, my headquarters were in a funny little street--I don’t suppose you’ve heard of it--down in the City it is.”

“I know the City fairly well.”

“I wonder if you know this place. I’d never heard of it before. Angel Pavement.”

“Angel Pavement? No, I never heard of that. You win. Well, I must say I’m ready for my lunch. I think I’ll slip down and wash my hands. Well, _well_, well, we-ell.” He sang these, at the same time stifling a yawn. “Meet any angels there?”

“What, in Angel Pavement? I can’t say I did.”

“Not on view, eh?”

“Not while I was there. I met somebody who nearly turned into one, but not quite. No, they were all just human, and they hadn’t got too dam’ much of that. I was sorry for the poor devils--some of ’em.”

“All I’m sorry for just now is my inside,” said Mr. Sugden, with great deliberation. “It’s crying out for a piece of steak nicely done and a few chips. Hello, there go the Customs chaps. We ought to be moving again soon. And--my word!--it’s time they thought about a bit o’ lunch. Look at the time. Let’s go down.”

“Listen. That’s it,” said Mr. Golspie. “Come on. Oh, I’ll get hold of that daughter of mine.”

When they returned after lunch, they found that they had left the docks behind and were now in the river. There was a new chill freshness in the air and a vague hint of the sea. On one side, the last of Woolwich was straggling past, with a misty Shooters Hill behind; and on the other side there were some old piers and a gas works.

“Better take a last look at London,” said Mr. Golspie to his daughter, as they walked round the deck. “There it is, see?”

“There’s nothing to see,” said Lena, looking back at the glistening streaky water and the haze and shadows beyond. “Not worth looking at.”

“All gone in smoke, eh? I mean the proper London. As a matter of fact, we’re not out of London yet. That’s right, isn’t it?”

“Not quite out of it yet,” replied Mr. Sugden, “but you’ve seen all there is to see. I think I’ll go down and have my little afternoon snooze.”

A string of barges passed them, moving slowly on to the very heart of the city. A gull dropped, wheeled, flashed, was gone, and with it went what little sun there was. The gleam faded from the face of the river; a chill wind stirred; the distant banks, a higgledy-piggledy of little buildings and green patches, retreated; and even the smoky haze of London city slipped away from them, thinning out into grey sky. “Well, the sun’s gone in,” said Mr. Golspie, “so I’ll go in, too.” Somewhere a steamer hooted twice out of the ghostliness. He gave a last look, then turned away. “And that’s that.”

THE END