Everybody in Mannering had gone to bed but Desmond and Pamela.

It was not certain indeed that the Squire had gone to bed, but as there was a staircase beside one of the doors of the library leading direct to his room, it was not likely that he would cross the hall again.

The twins felt themselves alone.
'I daresay there'll be a raid to-night,' said Desmond, 'it's so bright and still.

Put down that lamp a moment, Pamela.' She obeyed, and he threw away his cigarette, went to one of the windows, and drew up the blinds.
'Listen!' he said, holding up his hand.

Pamela came to his side, and they both heard through the stillness that sound of distant guns which no English ear had heard--till now--since the Civil War.
'And there are the searchlights!' For over London, some forty miles away behind a low range of hills, faint fingers of light were searching the sky.
'At this very moment, perhaps,'-- said the boy between his teeth--'those demons are blowing women and children to pieces--over there!' Pamela shivered and laid her cheek against his shoulder.