Well, here we are again! I'll see you in the morning, I
suppose?"
"Right oh! I'll come around for you early. Good-night!"
"Good-night!"
Neither of them really doubted for a moment that war was coming. It was in
the air. The attack on the little shop that they had helped to avert was
only one of many, although there was no real rioting in London. Such
scenes were simply the result of excitement, and no great harm was done
anywhere. But the tension of which such attacks were the result was
everywhere. For the next three days there was very little for anyone to do.
Everyone was waiting. France and Germany were at war; the news came that
the Germans had invaded Luxembourg, and were crossing the Belgian border.
And then, on Tuesday night, came the final news. England had declared war.
For the moment the news seemed to stun everyone. It had been expected, and
still it came as a surprise. But then London rose to the occasion. There
was no hysterical cheering and shouting; everything was quiet. Harry
Fleming saw a wonderful sight--a whole people aroused and determined. There
was no foolish boasting; no one talked of a British general eating his
Christmas dinner in Berlin. But even Dick Mercer, excitable and erratic as
he had always been, seemed to have undergone a great change.
"My father's going to the war," he told Harry on Wednesday morning.
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