Chapter Six
THE AEROPLANE was safely housed once more, the yelling mob had departed. London was bent upon one of its occasional insane holidays. The pouring rain did not matter one jot—had not the rain proved to be the salvation of the great city? What did it matter that the streets were black and the people blacker still? The danger was averted. “We will go out and explore presently,” said Grimfern. “Meanwhile, breakfast. A thing like this must never occur again, Hackness.” Hackness sincerely hoped not. Cynthia Grimfern came out to meet them. A liberal application of soap and water had rendered her sweet and fair, but it was impossible to keep clean for long. Everywhere lay evidences of the fog.
“It’s lovely to be able to see and breathe once more,” she said. “Last night every moment I
