"Soldiers," Maraton replied—"marching, too."
They moved the car over to the other side of the road. Presently a mounted officer galloped on ahead and rode up to them.
"Your name and address, please?"
Maraton hesitated.
"Why do you ask for it?" he demanded.
"I am sorry to inform you that your car must be surrendered at once," was the reply. "I hope we shall not inconvenience you very much but those are the general orders. Every motor car is to be commandeered. Sorry for the lady. Give me your name and address, please, at once, the cost price of your car, and how long it has been in your possession?"
Selingman gasped.
"Is the country at war?" he asked. "We have come from South Wales to-day. We heard nothing en route."
"There are no newspapers being issued," the officer told them. "The telegraph is abandoned to the Government, and also the telephone. Even we have no idea what is happening. We are trying to run a few trains through to the north but we have had a couple of hundred men killed already. They are to start again the other side of Romford. In the meantime, I am sorry, but I am bound to take possession of your car at once."
"My name is Selingman."