Wednesday 10 September 1930
The group visits Sonia, who’s had no more fires. In Canning Town it appears that the Boards of Governors of the various settlements are getting on with the jobs that Sir Reginald used to do. At Stratford, chatting with the builders at the site by the mission, there have clearly been more fires than usual; Gertrude spots traces and lures a bug into Milly’s box, packing it with some wood shavings. They buy an iron pot and get it away from the area; the aluminium box is melted, but the bug flies up and away. They buy a cheap iron bed-warming pan in case this needs to be done again.
Thomas Ramsey arrives at the meeting, clearly somewhat nervous. He’s heard of, or rather the organisation theorises, something like the fire bugs; they drive them off and repair the walls of the world with aggressive reality (jazz music seems to work particularly well). He’s interested in going along with them to Portland Place later in the evening, to see if the fire bugs are there too, though he’ll need to make some preparations. He’s not sure about the briefcase, but thinks that his people might well have taken it on general principles as a magical hazard, or indeed as useful raw material if they had no sense of self-preservation.
When asked about solar midnight, he talks about daily decanic influences: Tuesday is the day for Eneuth the decan of fire, and Friday is the day when it’s weakest so Saturday would be better than Friday.
They’ve been looking into the process of selection for the New Year’s Honours, and haven’t been able to find anything unusual about it. He’s had an interview with Sir George Paton but not learned any more than the firemen did. There are mentions in the records of the Great Fire of London, and magical causes for it – four different and incompatible ones.
At the Savoy, Sir George is happy to talk in a meeting-room (with more tea). He did indeed grab up the commemorative match, since it was next to the burning bed as he threw himself out; when he did so, the fire seemed to lessen, though the match itself still went up. He had a most disturbing sensation of being observed all through, like a thin specimen under a microscope. He’s been advised to keep a bucket of water by his bed; the group suggests that having a stout walking-stick to hand, to be brandished against any returning attacker, wouldn’t hurt. The group mentions the fire bugs, and he hands over the keys to the house in Portland Place.