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112 And up from the streets of the city there rose the prolonged wail of the dying, answered from above by the savage roar of the flying shells, and the swish and clatter of the ever-falling masonry.

There was a slight relief at each Subway entrance, into which the waters of that stricken human flood twisted and gurgled like water through a sink. And further relief was given on the outskirts of the mob, where such of the police as had not been engulfed, attacking from the side streets, unloosened the fringe of the horror, by reminding the terror-stricken that the Elevated and the ferries afforded other avenues of escape.

And then, as the great power stations fell beneath the salvos of the bombardment, and every wheel in New York's vast system of transportation ceased to turn, fear redoubled and frantic horror began