THE BATTLE OF THE DARKNESS
He was no longer in the hall. He was along a one of the great of the moving that the city. Before him and him his guards. The whole of the moving was a of people marching, to the left, shouting, hands and arms, along a vista, as they came into view, as they passed, as they receded, until the of electric light in it and the heads. Tramp, tramp, tramp, tramp.
The song up to Graham now, no longer by music, but and noisy, and the of the feet, tramp, tramp, tramp, tramp, with a of from the that along the higher ways.
Abruptly he noted a contrast. The on the opposite of the way deserted, the and that across the were empty and shadowy. It came into Graham's mind that these also should have with people.
He a emotion—throbbing—very fast! He stopped again. The him on; those about him stopped as he did. He saw and in their faces. The had something to do with the lights. He too looked up.
At it to him a thing that the lights simply, an phenomenon, having no on the below. Each of was as it were clutched, in a that was by a diastole, and again a like a grip, darkness, light, darkness, in alternation.
Graham aware that this of the lights had to do with the people below. The of the houses and ways, the of the packed changed, a of lights and shadows. He saw a of had into existence, up, broadening, widening, with swiftness—to and return reinforced. The song and the had ceased. The march, he discovered, was arrested, there were eddies, a sideways, of "The lights!" Voices were together one thing. "The lights!" these voices. "The lights!" He looked down. In this dancing death of the lights the area of the had a struggle. The white purple-white, with a glow, flickered, and faster, light and extinction, to and of red in a obscurity. In ten the was accomplished, and there was only this darkness, a black that had up those of men.
He about him; his arms were gripped. Something against his shin. A voice in his ear, "It is all right—all right."
Graham off the of his astonishment. He his against Lincoln's and bawled, "What is this darkness?"
"The Council has cut the that light the city. We must wait—stop. The people will go on. They will—"
His voice was drowned. Voices were shouting, "Save the Sleeper. Take of the Sleeper." A against Graham and his hand by an of his weapon. A wild and about him, growing, as it seemed, louder, denser, more each moment. Fragments of him, were away from him as his mind out to them. Voices to be orders, other voices answered. There were a of close them.
A voice in his ear, "The red police," and his questions.
A to distinctness, and a of along the of the ways. By their light Graham saw the and of a number of men, with like those of his guards, into an instant's visibility. The whole area to crackle, to with little of light, and the rolled like a curtain.
A of light his eyes, a of men his mind. A shout, a of cheering, came across the ways. He looked up to see the of the light. A man overhead from the upper part of a cable, by a rope the star that had the back.
Graham's to the again. A of red a little way along the his eye. He saw it was a of red-clad men on the higher way, their against the of building, and by a of antagonists. They were fighting. Weapons and rose and fell, at the of the contest, and other replaced them, the little from the green little of while the light lasted.
Abruptly the was and the were an once more, a mystery.
He something against him. He was being pushed along the gallery. Someone was shouting—it might be at him. He was too to hear. He was against the wall, and a number of people past him. It to him that his were with one another.
Suddenly the cable-hung star-holder appeared again, and the whole was white and dazzling. The of red-coats and nearer; its was half-way the the aisle. And his Graham saw that a number of these men had also appeared now in the of the opposite building, and were over the of their at the of people on the ways. The meaning of these upon him. The of the people had come upon an at the very outset. Thrown into by the of the lights they were now being by the red police. Then he aware that he was alone, that his and Lincoln were along the in the direction along which he had come the fell. He saw they were to him wildly, him. A great came from across the ways. Then it as though the whole of the opposite was and with red-clad men. And they were pointing over to him and shouting. "The Sleeper! Save the Sleeper!" a of throats.
Something the above his head. He looked up at the impact and saw a star-shaped of metal. He saw Lincoln near him. Felt his arm gripped. Then, pat, pat; he had been missed twice.
For a moment he did not this. The was hidden, was hidden, as he looked. The second had out.
Lincoln had Graham by the arm, was him along the gallery. "Before the next light!" he cried. His was contagious. Graham's of self-preservation the of his astonishment. He for a time the of the of death. He ran, of the of the darkness, into his as they to with him. Haste was his one desire, to this upon which he was exposed. A third came close on its predecessors. With it came a great across the ways, an from the ways. The red-coats below, he saw, had now almost the passage. Their him, and they shouted. The white façade opposite was with red. All these him, upon him as a pivot. These were the of the Council attempting to him.
Lucky it was for him that these were the in anger for a hundred and fifty years. He over his head, a of metal his ear, and without looking that the whole opposite façade, an of red police, was and and at him.
Down one of his him, and Graham, unable to stop, the body.
In another second he had plunged, unhurt, into a black passage, and someone, coming, it may be, in a direction, into him. He was a in darkness. He reeled, and was again, and came against a with his hands. He was by a weight of bodies, round, and to the right. A pressure him. He not breathe, his cracking. He a relaxation, and then the whole of people moving together, him the great theatre from which he had so come. There were moments when his did not touch the ground. Then he was and shoving. He of "They are coming!" and a close to him. His against something soft, he a under foot. He of "The Sleeper!" but he was too to speak. He the green crackling. For a space he his will, an in a panic, blind, unthinking, mechanical. He and pressed and in the pressure, presently against a step, and himself a slope. And the all about him out of the black, visible, ghastly-white and astonished, terrified, perspiring, in a glare. One face, a man's, was very near to him, not twenty away. At the time it was but a of no value, but it came to him in his dreams. For this man, in the for a time, had been and was already dead.
A fourth white star must have been by the man on the cable. Its light came in through and and Graham that he was now one of a of black pressed across the area of the great theatre. This time the picture was and fragmentary, and with black shadows. He saw that near to him the red were their way through the people. He not tell they saw him. He looked for Lincoln and his guards. He saw Lincoln near the stage of the theatre in a of black-badged revolutionaries, up and to and as if him. Graham that he himself was near the opposite of the crowd, that him, by a barrier, the now seats of the theatre. A idea came to him, and he his way the barrier. As he it the came to an end.
In a moment he had off the great that not only his movements but him conspicuous, and had it from his shoulders. He someone in its folds. In another he was the and had into the on the side. Then his way he came to the end of an gangway. In the the of and the of and voices lulled. Then he came to an step and and fell. As he did so and the about him to light again, the louder and the of the white star through the of the theatre walls.
He rolled over among some seats, a and the of weapons, up and was again, that a number of black-badged men were all about him at the below, from seat to seat, among the seats to reload. Instinctively he the seats, as the and cut on their soft metal frames. Instinctively he marked the direction of the gangways, the most way of for him so soon as the of again.
A man in came over the seats. "Hullo!" he said, with his six of the Sleeper's face.
He without any of recognition, to fire, fired, and shouting, "To with the Council!" was about to fire again. Then it to Graham that the of this man's had vanished. A of on Graham's cheek. The green stopped raised. For a moment the man still with his expressionless, then he to forward. His bent. Man and together. At the of his Graham rose up and ran for his life until a step to the him. He to his feet, up the and ran on.
When the star he was already close to the of a passage. He ran on the for the light, entered the passage and a into night again. He was sideways, rolled over, and his feet. He himself one of a of pressing in one direction. His one now was their also; to out of this fighting. He and struck, staggered, ran, was tightly, ground and then was clear again.
For some minutes he was through the along a passage, and then he some wide and open space, passed a long incline, and came at last a of steps to a level place. Many people were shouting, "They are coming! The are coming. They are firing. Get out of the fighting. The are firing. It will be safe in Seventh Way. Along here to Seventh Way!" There were and children in the as well as men.
The on an archway, passed through a and on a space again, dimly. The black about him spread out and ran up what in the to be a series of steps. He followed. The people to the right and left…. He that he was no longer in a crowd. He stopped near the step. Before him, on that level, were groups of seats and a little kiosk. He up to this and, stopping in the of its eaves, looked about him panting.
Everything was and grey, but he that these great steps were a series of of the "ways," now again. The up on either side, and the tall rose beyond, ghosts, their and seen, and up through the and was a of sky. A number of people by. From their and voices, it they were to join the fighting. Other less noisy among the shadows.
From very away the he the of a struggle. But it was to him that this was not the into which the theatre opened. That fight, it seemed, had out of and hearing. And they were for him!
For a space he was like a man who in the reading of a book, and what he has been taking unquestionably. At that time he had little mind for details; the whole was a astonishment. Oddly enough, while the from the Council prison, the great in the hall, and the attack of the red police upon the people were present in his mind, it cost him an to piece in his and to the of the Silent Rooms. At his memory these and took him to the at Pentargen in the wind, and all the of the Cornish coast. The touched with unreality. And then the filled, and he to his position.
It was no longer a riddle, as it had been in the Silent Rooms. At least he had the strange, now. He was in some way the owner of the world, and great political parties were to him. On the one hand was the Council, with its red police, set resolutely, it seemed, on the of his property and his murder; on the other, the that had him, with this "Ostrog" as its leader. And the whole of this city was by their struggle. Frantic of his world! "I do not understand," he cried. "I do not understand!"
He had out the parties into this of the twilight. What would next? What was happening? He the red-clad men as him, the black-badged them.
At any had him a space. He by the passers-by, and watch the of things. His up the of the buildings, and it came to him as a thing wonderful, that above there the sun was rising, and the world was and with the old familiar light of day. In a little while he had his breath. His had already upon him from the snow.
He for miles along these ways, speaking to no one, by no one—a dark among dark figures—the man out of the past, the owner of the world. Wherever there were lights or crowds, or excitement, he was of recognition, and and or up and by the middle stairways, into some of at a or higher level. And though he came on no more fighting, the whole city with battle. Once he had to to avoid a of men that the street. Everyone involved. For the most part they were men, and they what he were weapons. It as though the was mainly in the of the city from which he came. Ever and again a roaring, the of that conflict, his ears. Then his and his together. But his prevailed, and he away from the fighting—so as he judge. He unmolested, through the dark. After a time he to a echo of the battle, and people passed him, until at last the deserted. The of the plain, and harsh; he to have come to a of warehouses. Solitude upon him—his slackened.
He aware of a fatigue. At times he would turn and on one of the benches of the upper ways. But a restlessness, the knowledge of his in this struggle, would not let him in any place for long. Was the on his alone?
And then in a place came the of an earthquake—a and thundering—a wind of cold air through the city, the of glass, the and of masonry—a series of concussions. A of and from the into the middle gallery, not a hundred yards away from him, and in the were and running. He, too, was to an activity, and ran one way and then as back.
A man came him. His self-control returned. "What have they up?" asked the man breathlessly. "That was an explosion," and Graham speak he had on.
The great rose dimly, by a twilight, the of sky above was now with day. He noted many features, none at the time; he out many of the in Phonetic lettering. But what profit is it to a of odd-looking itself, after painful of and mind, into "Here is Eadhamite," or, "Labour Bureau—Little Side"? Grotesque thought, that all these cliff-like houses were his!
The of his came to him vividly. In he had such a in time as have again and again. And that realised, he had been prepared. His mind had, as it were, seated itself for a spectacle. And no itself, but a great danger, and of darkness. Somewhere through the his death him. Would he, after all, be killed he saw? It might be that at the next his ambushed. A great to see, a great to know, in him.
He of corners. It to him that there was safety in concealment. Where he to be when the lights returned? At last he sat upon a seat in a on one of the higher ways, he was alone there.
He his into his eyes. Suppose when he looked again he the dark of and that of gone. Suppose he were to the whole of these last days, the awakening, the multitudes, the and the fighting, a phantasmagoria, a new and more of dream. It must be a dream; it was so inconsecutive, so reasonless. Why were the people for him? Why should this world him as Owner and Master?
So he thought, blinded, and then he looked again, in of his ears to see some familiar of the life of the nineteenth century, to see, perhaps, the little of Boscastle about him, the of Pentargen, or the of his home. But takes no of hopes. A of men with a black banner the nearer shadows, on conflict, and rose that of frontage, and dark, with the on its face.
"It is no dream," he said, "no dream." And he his upon his hands.
