and threes. I made off to the left, and passed into the High Street by the end of St. Peter's Church, now disused. At the corner I ran against Mr. Clydesdale, the optician, who looks after the library which now occupies the old building. He pointed to the tower, which stood darkly up against the blood-red sky.
"'Look at those infernal Germans!' he said. 'They can't even keep out of that old place. I wish we could have got the books out before they came.'
"I could not see any of our invaders where he was pointing, but presently I became aware of a little winking, blinking light at the very summit of the tower.
"'That's them,' said Clydesdale. 'They're making signals, I think. My boy says he saw the same thing on Purleigh Church tower last night. I wish it would come down with them, that I do. It's pretty shaky, anyway.'
"The street was fairly full of people. The Germans, it is true, had ordered that no one should be out of doors between eight in the evening and six in the morning; but just now they appeared to have their hands pretty full elsewhere, and if any of the few soldiers that were about knew of or thought anything of the interdiction, they said nothing. Wat Miller, the postman, came up and touched his cap.
"'Terrible times, sir,' he said, 'ain't they? There was a mort of people killed this afternoon by them shells. There was poor old Missis Reece in the London Road. Bed-ridden, she were, this dozen years. Well, sir, there ain't so much as the head on her left. A fair mash up she were, poor old lady! Then there was Jones the carpenter's three kids, as was left behind when their mother took the baby to Mundon with the rest of the women. The house was struck and come down atop of 'em. They got two out, but they were dead, poor souls! and they're still looking for the other one.'
"The crash of a salvo of heavy guns from the direction of my own house interrupted the tale of horrors.
"'That'll be the guns in my garden,' I said.
"'Yes, sir; and they've got three monstrous great
