CHAPTER VI

THE BLACK MORNING On the West Side of Manhattan, in what must have been in its time the most crowded district of the ancient New York, stood a huge ruin of gray stone, almost entirely obliterated by the jungle growth. It had been one of the great train stations of the ancients. Against this massive structure, built so that it would seem that time itself could not harm it, the Great Catastrophe had shown a violent spite so that its mighty pillars lay toppled and buried under rank forest growth; its courts and halls…