and died together.

Cyril frequently went up to view the infected districts. He was not
moved by curiosity, but by a desire to see if there were no way of
being of use. There was not a street but many of the houses were
marked with the red cross. In front of these the watchmen sat on
stools or chairs lent by the inmates, or borrowed from some house
whence the inhabitants had all fled. The air rang with pitiful cries.
Sometimes women, distraught with terror or grief, screamed wildly
through open windows. Sometimes people talked from the upper stories
to their neighbours on either hand, or opposite, prisoners like
themselves, each telling their lamentable tale of misery, of how many
had died and how many remained.

It was by no means uncommon to see on the pavement men and women who,
in the excess of despair or pain, had thrown themselves headlong
down. While such sounds and sights filled Cyril with horror, they
aroused still more his feelings of pity and desire to be of some use.
Very frequently he went on errands for people who called down from
above to him. Money was lowered in a tin dish, or other vessel, in
which it lay covered with vinegar as a disinfectant. Taking it out,
he would go and buy the required articles, generally food or
medicine, and, returning, place them in a basket that was again
lowered.

The watchmen mostly executed these commissions, but many of them were
surly fellows, and, as they were often abused and cursed by those
whom they held prisoners, would do but little for them. They had,
moreover, an excuse for refusing to leave the door, because, as often
happened, it might be opened in their absence and the inmates escape.