Complete loneliness was the worst state I could imagine just then. Alone, one would be nothing. Company meant purpose, and purpose helped to keep the morbid fears at bay.
I tried to shut out the sounds by thinking of all the things I must do the next day, and the day after, and the days after that; by guessing what the beam of light might mean, and how it might affect us. But the sobbing in the background went on and on and on, reminding me of the things I had seen that day, and would see tomorrow…
The opening of the door brought me sitting up in sudden alarm. It was Josella, carrying a lighted candle. Her eyes were wide and dark, and she had been crying.
“I can’t sleep,” she said. “I’m frightened—horribly frightened. Can you hear them—all those poor people? I can’t stand it…”
She came like a child to be comforted. I’m not sure that her need of it was much greater than mine.
She fell asleep before I did, and with her head resting on my shoulder.
Still the memories of the day would not leave me in peace. But, in the end, one does sleep. My last recollection was of remembering the sweet, sad voice of the girl who had sung:
So we’ll go no more a-roving…
RENDEZVOUS
When I awoke I could hear Josella already moving around in the kitchen. My watch said nearly seven o’clock. By the time I had shaved uncomfortably in cold water and dressed myself, there was a smell of toast and coffee drifting through the apartment. I found her holding a pan over the oil stove. She had an air of self-possession which was hard to associate with the frightened figure of the night before. Her manner was practical too.
“Canned milk, I’m afraid. The fridge stopped. Everything else is all right, though,” she said.
It was difficult for a moment to believe that the expediently dressed form before me had been the ballroom vision of the previous evening. She had chosen a dark blue skiing suit with white-topped socks rolled above sturdy shoes. On a dark leather belt she wore a finely made hunting knife to replace the mediocre weapon I had found the day before. I have no idea how I expected to find her dressed, or whether I had given the matter any thought, but the practicality of her choice was by no means the only impression I received as I saw her.
“Will I do, do you think?” she asked.
“Eminently,” I assured her. I looked down at myself. “I wish I’d had as much forethought. Gents’ lounge suiting isn’t quite the rig for the job,” I added.
“You could do better,” she agreed, with a candid glance at my crumpled suit.
“That light last night,” she went on, “came from the University Tower—at least, I’m pretty sure it did. There’s nothing else noticeable exactly on that line. It seems about the right distance, too.”
I went into her room and looked along the scratch I had drawn on the sill. It did, as she said, point directly at the tower. And I noticed something more. The tower was flying two flags at the same mast. One might have been left hoisted by chance, but two must be a deliberate signal: the daytime equivalent of the light. We decided over breakfast that we would postpone our planned program and make an investigation of the tower our first job for the day.
We left the apartment about half an hour later. As I had hoped, the station wagon, by standing out in the middle of the street, had escaped the attentions of prowlers and was intact. Without delaying further, we dropped the suitcases that Josella had acquired into the back among the triffid gear, and started off.
Few people were about. Presumably weariness and the chill in the air had made them aware that night had fallen, and not many had yet emerged from whatever sleeping places they had found. Those who were to be seen were keeping more to the gutters and less to the walls than they had on the previous day. Most of them were now holding sticks or bits of broken wood with which they tapped their way along the curb. It made for easier going than by the house fronts with their entrances and projections, and the tapping had decreased the frequency of collisions.