7
As I returned to The Sanctuary for the last time, I could see—even without my glasses—from one lamp-post to the next. The narrow streets north of Smith Square were almost empty; and I could hardly blame a routed enemy for shying from such sinister avenues of escape. There were more and more people as I drew nearer to the Embankment, all of them rather dazed and many wounded. I saw no dead, though stretchers were being hurried up as I came in sight of The Sanctuary; and of the battle there was no other sound than a rapid scurry of feet towards Westminster Bridge and Vauxhall.
At the corner of Sanctuary Road I was challenged and stopped by a policeman.
“I’m looking for the gentleman whose house has been attacked,” I explained. “I’ve got his family in a car near by; but he’s unfortunately blind, and I don’t want him to miss them.”
I was allowed through; and, a moment later, I stood in the midst of one of the strangest scenes that I have witnessed. To see, to smell and to touch, it was a blend of shambles and distillery under the combined influence of earthquake and fire. The ground was in places waist-deep with stones; for twenty feet round the house I heard the glass crackling as I walked. More than once I slipped in an ominous pool of blood; and the air was sickly with the smell of whisky and singed clothing.
I whistled and called O’Rane’s name, but there was no answer. Every approach was now guarded by police; and on either side of the cordon I heard scuffling as the last unyielding attackers were put under arrest. In the middle of the open square, the wounded were laid out to await the ambulances. I borrowed a lantern and flashed it down the lines, but there was no one remotely resembling Raney.
“I’m going to try the house now,” I told the policeman nearest the stables. “If you’ll give me a leg up, I can get over the wall and up the fire escape.”
There was no one in the yard, no one in the house. As a last hope, I interrogated two or three of the constables; but, if any of them had found time to notice anything my description did not help to identify one half-seen figure in a surging crowd of many thousands.
“Well, if he turns up,” I said to the inspector, “will you tell him that all’s well and that his family has gone to Mr. Oakleigh’s house?”
Then, handing him a card, I bent my steps in the direction of the Church House.