After he had said goodbye to the soldier, he went down the hill, along the High street and across the bridge to Fulham. Beyond Fulham the streets ware quiet again. Where there was no black powder, it was curiously like Sunday in the financial area of London. The silence grew greater, but it was not the stillness of death-it was the stillness of expectation. In south Kensington the streets was clear of dead people and the black powder. He came into Oxford street by Marble Arch, and here again were black powder and several bodies.
He came to a destroyed building-machine halfway to St John's Wood station then he moved on towards Primrose Hill. He and many other did not see that it would happen because terror and disaster had blinded their minds.