And it was approaching, so fast that it overtook some persons who were trying to run away from it – they were blurring into ghosts of smoke and bursting into flames, their sprinting forms dissolving into light: the Rapture. This had not escaped Drake's notice – he was pointing at it – but the crowd of Court fops below were not interested. To Drake, these particular men had been demons from Hell even before London had caught fire, because they were the personal bootlicks of King Charles II, an arch-daemon of King Louis XIV himself. Now, here they were, perversely convened in front of his house.