“Did they do much to London, sir?” asked Bert.
“Heaven knows....”
He said no more for a time.
“This Labrador seems a quiet place,” he resumed at last. “I'm half a mind to stay here. Can't do that. No! I've got to see it through. I've got to see it through. You've got to, too. Every one.... But why?... I tell you—our world's gone to pieces. There's no way out of it, no way back. Here we are! We're like mice caught in a house on fire, we're like cattle overtaken by a flood. Presently we shall be picked up, and back we shall go into the fighting. We shall kill and smash again—perhaps. It's a Chino-Japanese air-fleet this time, and the odds are against us. Our turns will come. What will happen to you I don't know, but for myself, I know quite well; I shall be killed.”
“You'll be all right,” said Bert, after a queer pause.
“No!” said Kurt, “I'm going to be killed. I didn't know it before, but this morning, at dawn, I knew it—as though I'd been told.”
“'Ow?”
“I tell you I know.”
“But 'ow COULD you know?”
“I know.”