A dense mass of men and women were marching up the street. Every face was set and serious. There were many clergymen and ministers in the crowd, if the clerical collar and ministerial garb gave true indication of their calling.
“To St. Paul’s! To St. Paul’s!” a stentorian voice was shouting.
The stock-brokers joined the mighty crowd, which, grim, resolute, silent, swept on.
By midnight, or soon after, a few hours only after the great Translation, the hordes of the vicious that festered in the slums—women, as well as men, aliens and British alike—had heard something of what had happened, and creeping from their filthy lairs, began, at once to become a menace to public life and property.
Many of the police beats were unprotected, the men who had been patrolling them sharing in the sudden glorious Rapture of their Lord’s return. By midnight, the whole police service had become temporarily disorganized, if not actually demoralized.
Scotland Yard heads of departments were missing, as well as local Superintendents, Sergeants, etc. In many cases there was no one to give orders, or to maintain control. And where leaders were left, they were often too scared and unnerved to exercise a healthful authority.
Under these circumstances the hordes of vicious, and out of work grew bolder every hour. They had no fear of the Spiritual character of the strange situation, for God, to them, was a name only to blaspheme. Hell was a merry jest to them, a synonym for warmth and rest,—a combination which had been all too rare with them on earth. Besides, Hell had no shadow of terror to people who, for years, had suffered the torments of a life in a literal hell in London.
Shops, and private houses, and some of the larger business houses had been openly burgled. A rumour got abroad, that the Banks were to be raided.
Ralph Bastin, passing the Bank of England, found that the guard of Soldiers had been quadrupled, and this too for the day-time. Curious to know how the Translation of the night before had affected the army, he asked one of the privates if any of the London soldiers were missing?
“All the ‘blue-lights,’ (as we calls the Christians, sir,) is missin’. Yer see, sir, if a feller perfesses to be a Chrishun in the Army, an’ aint real, ’e soon gits the perfession knocked outer ’im. On the other han’ if ’e’s real, why all the persekushun on’y drives ’is ’ligion deeper inter ’im. Yes, all the ‘blue-lights’ is gone, sir, an’ any amount o’ officers.