Throughout the whole of Tuesay London lived in an atmosphere of suspense waiting for the wireless messages which came through the air with their words of comfort or desolation, or, almost worst still, bringing neither the one nor the other, but leaving a sharper pain of gnawing anxiety in the hearts of those whose near and dear ones were on the doomed vessel.

In the City offices and restaurants the one topic of conversation was the wreck and the latest cable. Every successive edition of the newspapers was eagerly bought up as soon as it appeared in the streets, and every hopeful rumour gave rise to a fresh burst of high optimisim, each in its turn to be slowly but remorselessly worn away by succeeding reports.

On the buildings of all the shipping companies, and on many private business houses, the flags were flying at half-mast, and in the neighbourhood of the White Star Line's offices in Cockspur-street the crowds of people conversing in peculiarly hushed tones and the white drawn faces bore eloquent testimony to the tragedy which had occurred.

At the White Star Line's London offices in Oceanic House, over which the flags were flying at half-mast, the same scenes of anxious suspense were witnessed throughout the whole day.