London sewers, and now they were as much an accepted fact there as tigers in the delta by Calcutta....
The man's brother had bought a paper in a heedless sort of way at Sandling, and at last this chanced to catch the eye of the released man. He opened the unfamiliar sheets--they seemed to him to be smaller, more numerous, and different in type from the papers of the times before--and he found himself confronted with innumerable pictures about things so strange as to be uninteresting, and with tall columns of printed matter whose headings, for the most part, were as unmeaning as though they had been written in a foreign tongue--"Great Speech by Mr. Caterham"; "The Boomfood Laws."
"Who's this here Caterham?" he asked, in an attempt to make conversation.
"_He's_ all right," said his brother.
"Ah! Sort of politician, eh?"
"Goin' to turn out the Government. Jolly well time he did."
"Ah!" He reflected. "I suppose all the lot _I_ used to know--Chamberlain, Rosebery--all that lot--_What_?"
His brother had grasped his wrist and pointed out of the window.
"That's the Cossars!" The eyes of the released prisoner followed the finger's direction and saw--
"My Gawd!" he cried, for the first time really overcome with amazement. The paper dropped into final forgottenness between his
