They rushed me across the roof through a crowd of other men, similarly clad, down an elevator, and into the street. They dragged me upon one of the moving platforms and conveyed me a short distance, descending at the entrance to one of the innumerable shining buildings, over which was inscribed something in the same undecipherable letters.
But, quickly as we had gone, the report of my arrest seemed to have preceded us, for our way was blocked by a vast and constantly increasing crowd, that came running up with lively and shameless curiosity, and, attracted by my rags, I suppose, pressed closely about us and uttered hoots of laughter. I heard the word “defective” bandied from mouth to mouth.
I looked at these people attentively. There were both men and women present, all wearing clothing of the same pale blue color, which seemed to be prescribed, although the cut of each garment was to some extent individual. In effect, the men wore sack suits of a coarsely woven woolen material, with short, loose trousers fastened with laces about the ankles, and square-cut coats having wide lapels extending to a broad, turned-back collar that fell over the shoulders like a sailor’s, revealing a neckpiece of blue linen. The women’s short skirts reached to the tops of their high boots, and the fashion seemed to run to large buttons and loose sleeves. They wore no hats. Upon the breast, near the shoulder, each person wore a small linen badge, indicative of his occupation.
I glanced from one to another, and met hard, mirthless eyes, and mouths twisted in sneering mockery
What disconcerted me was the shrewd, mocking smile upon each face. I glanced from one to another, seeking to find something of the same friendly interest that animated me, and met hard, mirthless eyes, and mouths twisted in sneering mockery.
Another thing that startled and almost terrified me was the absence of a certain conventionality of restraint that had ruled everybody in that other world of mine. For instance, among those gibing at me was a gray-bearded man who danced before me like a small urchin. Another made an expressive pantomime of death. A girl stuck out her tongue at me. I remembered the plaint, that never since the glorious age of Greece had the code of public morality coincided with that privately held. This we all knew; the statesman in parliament was not on bowing terms with the same statesman in the smoking-room. Some said it was Christianity, others respectability that bound us in this organic hypocrisy; but now the two codes seemed to have coalesced. A grandfather grimaced at me; a gray-haired woman put out her foot to trip me; if there had been stones I think they would have flung them at me. But suddenly a youngish lad in white appeared, and the crowd, hastening to make a path for him, shrank back with servile demeanor. Taking advantage of this, my captors, linking their arms in mine, made a rush forward, scattering the mob right and left, and bore me through a swinging door into a small rotunda, in which a number of other policemen were seated with their blue-clad prisoners.
CHAPTER V
LONDON’S WELCOME
Inside the rotunda a burly man in blue, with the white shield on his breast, was standing on guard in front of a second swinging door, above which was painted something in the same strange characters. A few words to him from my captors apparently secured us precedence, for he stared at me curiously, opened the door, and bawled to some person inside. I was pushed into a large courtroom. It contained no seats, however, for spectators or witnesses. The only occupants were the magistrate and his clerk, and a group of policemen who lounged at one end of the room, joking among themselves. The clerk, a little, obsequious man in blue, was seated at a desk immediately opposite that of his chief, a pompous, surly fellow in white, wearing about his shoulders a lusterless black cape, which seemed to be a truncation of the old legal gown. Placing me on a platform near the clerk’s desk, the two policemen who were in charge of me stepped forward and began an explanation in low tones which was not meant to meet my ears, and did not.
The magistrate started nervously, and, putting his hand beneath his desk, pulled up a truncheon similar to those that I had seen in the cellar. He handled this nervously during our interview.