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| author | nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org> | 2025-03-07 09:21:20 -0800 |
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| committer | nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org> | 2025-03-07 09:21:20 -0800 |
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diff --git a/75548-h/75548-h.htm b/75548-h/75548-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..cfef8fe --- /dev/null +++ b/75548-h/75548-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,11313 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html lang="en"> +<head> + <meta charset="UTF-8"> + <title> + A time of terror | Project Gutenberg + </title> + <link rel="icon" href="images/cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover"> + <style> + +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + + h1,h2,h3 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; font-weight: normal; +} + +h2 {margin-bottom: 2em; margin-top: 4em; } + +p { + margin-top: .51em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .49em; +} + +.p1 {margin-top: 1em;} +.p1b {margin-bottom: 1em;} +.p2 {margin-top: 2em;} + +.p4 {margin-top: 4em;} +.p6b {margin-bottom: 6em;} + + +.big1 { + font-size: 110%; + } + +.big2 { + font-size: 130%; + } + +.big3 { + font-size: 140%; + } + +hr.tb {width: 30%; margin-left: 35%; margin-right: 35%; margin-top: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 1.5em;} + + + +div.chapter {page-break-before: always;} +h2.nobreak {page-break-before: avoid;} + +.indent50 {margin-left: 50%;} + +.autotable { + margin-left: 25%; + margin-right: 25%; + width: 50%; +} + +.x-ebookmaker .autotable {margin-right: auto; width: auto; margin-left: auto;} + +table.autotable { border-collapse: collapse; } +table.autotable td, +table.autotable th { padding: 0.25em; } + +.tdl {text-align: left;} +.tdr {text-align: right;} +.tdc {text-align: center;} + +.pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /*visibility: hidden;*/ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: small; + text-align: right; + font-style: normal; + font-weight: normal; + font-variant: normal; + text-indent: 0; +} /* page numbers */ + + + + +.center {text-align: center;} + +.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + +.allsmcap {font-variant: small-caps; text-transform: lowercase;} + + +/* Images */ + +img { + max-width: 100%; + height: auto; +} +img.w100 {width: 100%;} + + +.figcenter { + margin: auto; + text-align: center; + page-break-inside: avoid; + max-width: 100%; +} + + +/* Poetry */ +/* uncomment the next line for centered poetry */ + .poetry-container {display: flex; justify-content: center;} +.poetry-container {text-align: center; margin-top: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em;} +.poetry {text-align: left; margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 5%;} + + +/* Transcriber's notes */ + .tnote {border: dashed 1px; margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; padding-bottom: 1.5em; padding-top: 1.5em; + padding-left: 1.5em; padding-right: 1.5em; margin-top: 4em; margin-bottom: 4em; } + +/* Illustration classes */ +.illowp15 {width: 15%;} +.x-ebookmaker .illowp15 {width: 100%;} +.illowp45 {width: 45%;} +.x-ebookmaker .illowp45 {width: 100%;} + + </style> +</head> +<body> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75548 ***</div> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp45" id="i_cover" style="max-width: 106.6875em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/cover.jpg" alt="cover" title="bookc"> +</figure> + +<div class="chapter"> +<div class="tnote"> + <p class="center p4 big1">TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:</p> + +<p>In the plain text version text in <em>italics</em> is enclosed by underscores +(_italics_), <span class="smcap">Small Capitals</span> are represented in upper case as in SMALL +CAPS and the sign ^ before any letter or text, like ^e, represents "e" +as a superscript.</p> + +<p>A number of words in this book have both hyphenated and non-hyphenated +variants. For the words with both variants present the one more used +has been kept.</p> + +<p>Obvious punctuation and other printing errors have been corrected.</p> + +<p>The original cover art has been modified by the transcriber and is +granted to the public domain.</p> +</div> +</div> + +<hr class="tb x-ebookmaker-drop"> + + +<div class="chapter"><h1>A<br> +TIME OF TERROR</h1> + +<p class="center big2">The Story of a Great Revenge</p> + +<p class="center">(A.D., 1910)</p> + +<p class="indent50 p2">This England never did, nor never shall<br> +Lie at the proud foot of a conqueror,<br> +But when it first did help to wound itself.</p> + +<p class="indent50" style="padding-left: 10em"><em>King John</em></p> + +<p class="center p4"><em>SECOND EDITION</em></p> + +<p class="center p4">LONDON<br> +GREENING & CO., LTD.<br> +1906</p> + +<p class="center p1">[<em>All Rights Reserved</em>]</p> +</div> + + + + + +<div class="chapter"> +<p class="center p4"><em>Copyright<br> +in<br> +The United Kingdom<br> +of<br> +Great Britain and Ireland<br> +in the<br> +Dominion of Canada<br> +and in the<br> +United States of America</em></p> +</div> + +<p class="indent50 p2" style="padding-left: 4em;"><i>Dec. 1905.</i></p> + + + + +<div class="chapter"> +<p class="center big2 p4"> +<small>Dedicated</small><br> +<br> +<small>TO</small><br> +<br> +MY FELLOW CITIZENS<br> +<br> +<small>IN<br> +<br> +“THIS GREAT BABYLON,”<br> +<br> +AND,<br> +<br> +IN PARTICULAR,<br> +<br> +TO MEMBERS OF THE THREE</small><br> +<br> +LEARNED PROFESSIONS</p> +<br> +<p class="indent50 p6b"><em>London: New Year’s Day, 1906.</em></p> +</div> + + + + +<div class="chapter"> +<p class="center p4 big3"><em>CHARACTERS</em></p> +</div> + + +<p class="center p2 big1"><span class="smcap">Marcus White</span><br> +<span class="smcap">Sir John Westwood</span><br> +<span class="smcap">Bobby Herrick</span><br> +<span class="smcap">Father Francis</span><br> +<span class="smcap">Detective-Inspector Henshaw</span><br> +<span class="smcap">Billy of Mayfair</span><br> +<span class="smcap">The Marquis of Downland</span><br> +<span class="smcap">The Lord Mayor</span><br> +<span class="smcap">Raggett the Raver</span><br> +<span class="smcap">Joe the Stableman</span><br> +<span class="smcap">P.C. Dormer</span></p> +<br> + +<p class="center big1"><span class="smcap">Aldwyth Westwood</span><br> +<span class="smcap">Molly Barter</span><br> +<span class="smcap">Billy’s Grandmother</span><br> +<span class="smcap">Mrs Joe</span></p> +<br> +<br> +<p class="center big2"><span class="smcap">Crowned Heads</span></p> + +<br> +<p class="center big1"><em>Episcopate</em>—</p> + +<p class="center big1"> +<span class="smcap">The Archbishop of London (New Province)</span><br> + +<br> +<em>Royal Navy</em>—<br> + +<span class="smcap">Vice-Admiral Sir Lambert Meade</span>, K.C.B.<br> +</p> + +<br> +<p class="big2 center"><em>Judges and Magistrates</em>—</p> +<p class="center big1"> +<span class="smcap">Lord Malvern</span>, L.C.J.; <span class="smcap">Mr Justice Barling</span>;<br> +<span class="smcap">Mr Harrowden</span><br> +</p> +<br> +<p class="big2 center"><em>Counsel</em>—</p> +<p class="center big1"> +<span class="smcap">Mr Duffus Jacobs</span>, K.C.; <span class="smcap">Mr Brill</span>, K.C.;<br> +<span class="smcap">Mr Dawson Dalton</span><br> +</p> +<br> +<p class="big2 center"><em>Medical Faculty</em>—</p> +<p class="center big1"> +<span class="smcap">Dr Wilson Wake</span><br> +<br> +<span class="smcap">The Leaguers of London</span>, <span class="smcap">Police</span>, <span class="smcap">The Unemployed</span>, <span class="allsmcap">ETC.</span><br> +</p> +<br> + +<p class="center">[<em>Dramatic Rights secured</em>]</p> + + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</span></p> +</div> + +<p class="big2 center p4">CONTENTS</p> + + + + +<table class="autotable"> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> </td> +<td class="tdl"> </td> +<td class="tdr">PAGE</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> </td> +<td class="tdc"><span class="smcap">Prologue</span>:</td> +<td class="tdl"> </td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> </td> +<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Part I.—A Heritage of Hate</span></td> +<td class="tdr" style="padding-right: 1em;"><a href="#Page_9">9</a> </td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> </td> +<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Part II.—Rivals in Love</span></td> +<td class="tdr" style="padding-right: 1em;"><a href="#Page_17">17</a> </td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> </td> +<td class="tdl"> </td> +<td class="tdl"> </td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> </td> +<td class="tdc"><span class="smcap">Chapters</span></td> +<td class="tdl"> </td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr" style="padding-right: 1.0em;">I.</td> +<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">London in 1910</span></td> +<td class="tdr" style="padding-right: 1em;"><a href="#Page_21">21</a> </td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr" style="padding-right: 1.0em;">II.</td> +<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">At the New Bailey</span></td> +<td class="tdr" style="padding-right: 1em;"><a href="#Page_29">29</a> </td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr" style="padding-right: 1.0em;">III.</td> +<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Leaguers’ First Move</span></td> +<td class="tdr" style="padding-right: 1em;"><a href="#Page_36">36</a> </td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr" style="padding-right: 1.0em;">IV.</td> +<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Case that Failed</span></td> +<td class="tdr" style="padding-right: 1em;"><a href="#Page_46">46</a> </td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr" style="padding-right: 1.0em;">V.</td> +<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Leaguers’ Second Move</span></td> +<td class="tdr" style="padding-right: 1em;"><a href="#Page_54">54</a> </td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr" style="padding-right: 1.0em;">VI.</td> +<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Murder of Dr Grady</span></td> +<td class="tdr" style="padding-right: 1em;"><a href="#Page_61">61</a> </td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr" style="padding-right: 1.0em;">VII.</td> +<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Love on the Leas</span></td> +<td class="tdr" style="padding-right: 1em;"><a href="#Page_69">69</a> </td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr" style="padding-right: 1.0em;">VIII.</td> +<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Sir John Breaks Down</span></td> +<td class="tdr" style="padding-right: 1em;"><a href="#Page_77">77</a> </td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr" style="padding-right: 1.0em;">IX.</td> +<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Father Francis at Folkestone</span></td> +<td class="tdr" style="padding-right: 1em;"><a href="#Page_85">85</a> </td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr" style="padding-right: 1.0em;">X.</td> +<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Marcus White Returns</span></td> +<td class="tdr" style="padding-right: 1em;"><a href="#Page_97">97</a> </td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr" style="padding-right: 1.0em;">XI.</td> +<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Sign of the Spider</span></td> +<td class="tdr" style="padding-right: 1em;"><a href="#Page_105">105</a> </td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr" style="padding-right: 1.0em;">XII.</td> +<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The “Epoch” Runs Amok</span></td> +<td class="tdr" style="padding-right: 1em;"><a href="#Page_115">115</a> </td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr" style="padding-right: 1.0em;">XIII.</td> +<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Strange Outbreak at Queen’s Hall</span></td> +<td class="tdr" style="padding-right: 1em;"><a href="#Page_125">125</a> </td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr" style="padding-right: 1.0em;">XIV.</td> +<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Billy of Mayfair</span></td> +<td class="tdr" style="padding-right: 1em;"><a href="#Page_132">132</a> </td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr" style="padding-right: 1.0em;">XV.</td> +<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Shrine of Luxury and Pride</span></td> +<td class="tdr" style="padding-right: 1em;"><a href="#Page_142">142</a> </td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr" style="padding-right: 1.0em;">XVI.</td> +<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Mania that Laid Hold of London</span></td> +<td class="tdr" style="padding-right: 1em;"><a href="#Page_152">152</a> <span class="pagenum" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</span></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr" style="padding-right: 1.0em;">XVII.</td> +<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Great Fire in Hyde Park</span></td> +<td class="tdr" style="padding-right: 1em;"><a href="#Page_160">160</a> </td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr" style="padding-right: 1.0em;">XVIII.</td> +<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Aldwyth Asks a Question</span></td> +<td class="tdr" style="padding-right: 1em;"><a href="#Page_171">171</a> </td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr" style="padding-right: 1.0em;">XIX.</td> +<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Lord Mayor Reads the Riot Act</span></td> +<td class="tdr" style="padding-right: 1em;"><a href="#Page_178">178</a> </td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr" style="padding-right: 1.0em;">XX.</td> +<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Leaguers at the Home Office</span></td> +<td class="tdr" style="padding-right: 1em;"><a href="#Page_189">189</a> </td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr" style="padding-right: 1.0em;">XXI.</td> +<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Devil’s Own on the Defensive</span></td> +<td class="tdr" style="padding-right: 1em;"><a href="#Page_198">198</a> </td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr" style="padding-right: 1.0em;">XXII.</td> +<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Bomb Brigade</span></td> +<td class="tdr" style="padding-right: 1em;"><a href="#Page_208">208</a> </td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr" style="padding-right: 1.0em;">XXIII.</td> +<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Cranks’ Corner</span></td> +<td class="tdr" style="padding-right: 1em;"><a href="#Page_216">216</a> </td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr" style="padding-right: 1.0em;">XXIV.</td> +<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Lower Critic</span></td> +<td class="tdr" style="padding-right: 1em;"><a href="#Page_222">222</a> </td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr" style="padding-right: 1.0em;">XXV.</td> +<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Marcus White Gives Orders</span></td> +<td class="tdr" style="padding-right: 1em;"><a href="#Page_231">231</a> </td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr" style="padding-right: 1.0em;">XXVI.</td> +<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Capture of the Judges</span></td> +<td class="tdr" style="padding-right: 1em;"><a href="#Page_239">239</a> </td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr" style="padding-right: 1.0em;">XXVII.</td> +<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Black Christmas</span></td> +<td class="tdr" style="padding-right: 1em;"><a href="#Page_251">251</a> </td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdr" style="padding-right: 1.0em;">XXVIII.</td> +<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">In Trafalgar Square</span></td> +<td class="tdr" style="padding-right: 1em;"><a href="#Page_260">260</a> </td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr" style="padding-right: 1.0em;">XXIX.</td> +<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Billy’s Message</span></td> +<td class="tdr" style="padding-right: 1em;"><a href="#Page_266">266</a> </td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr" style="padding-right: 1.0em;">XXX.</td> +<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Fate of Portsmouth Dockyard</span></td> +<td class="tdr" style="padding-right: 1em;"><a href="#Page_276">276</a> </td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr" style="padding-right: 1.0em;">XXXI.</td> +<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Naval Battle off Plymouth</span></td> +<td class="tdr" style="padding-right: 1em;"><a href="#Page_285">285</a> </td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr" style="padding-right: 1.0em;">XXXII.</td> +<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Marcus White and the Mob</span></td> +<td class="tdr" style="padding-right: 1em;"><a href="#Page_296">296</a> </td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr" style="padding-right: 1.0em;">XXXIII.</td> +<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Foreign Secretary</span></td> +<td class="tdr" style="padding-right: 1em;"><a href="#Page_306">306</a> </td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr" style="padding-right: 1.0em;">XXXIV.</td> +<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Eagle in the Lion’s Jaws</span></td> +<td class="tdr" style="padding-right: 1em;"><a href="#Page_314">314</a> </td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr" style="padding-right: 1.0em;">XXXV.</td> +<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The King and the Kaiser</span></td> +<td class="tdr" style="padding-right: 1em;"><a href="#Page_318">318</a> </td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr" style="padding-right: 1.0em;">XXXVI.</td> +<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Brotherhood of Death</span></td> +<td class="tdr" style="padding-right: 1em;"><a href="#Page_324">324</a> </td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr" style="padding-right: 1.0em;">XXXVII.</td> +<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Great Thanksgiving</span></td> +<td class="tdr" style="padding-right: 1em;"><a href="#Page_328">328</a> </td> +</tr> +</table> + + + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</span></p> + + + + +<p class="center p4 big3" >A Time of Terror</p> +</div> + + +<h2 class="nobreak" >PROLOGUE<br> +<small>(A.D. 1885)</small></h2> + + +<h3>PART I<br> +<small>A HERITAGE OF HATE</small></h3> + + +<p>The Court was densely crowded, and an +atmosphere already vitiated became doubly +poisonous now that the ushers had lighted +the gas. The flaring jets revealed on every +side the flushed and strained faces of those +who were eagerly waiting for the verdict. +A great number of women had been present +at the Old Bailey throughout the trial—women +of fashion, eager to be thrilled by +the most potent sensation of the hour, and +women of the lower orders, mostly Irish. +A babble of excited conversation arose directly +the judges and the jury left the Court. +There were three judges, for this was an<span class="pagenum" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</span> +alleged case of treason felony. In technical +language the four prisoners were indicted for +having feloniously compassed, devised, and +intended to depose our Lady the Queen +from the style, honour, and royal name of +the Imperial Crown of the United Kingdom, +and further that they, with divers other +persons unknown, did manifest such intent +by certain overt acts; all of which was set +out with the customary amount of verbiage +in the indictment.</p> + +<p>Reduced to plain English, the actual charge +was that the accused had purchased arms +and ammunition for distribution amongst a +revolutionary brotherhood; that they had +been concerned in storing gunpowder and +other explosive materials for the purpose +of wrecking public buildings and overthrowing +the Government of the Queen. Chester +Castle, with its great store of arms, was to +be seized. Arms were to be transmitted in +piano packing-cases by the mail train from +Euston, and the express was to be held up +on the route to Holyhead. Thereafter the +rails were to be torn up, the telegraph wires +cut, and an armed band of two thousand +men was to take forcible possession of the +mail boat and land in due course on the +Irish coast.</p> + +<p>None of these things, beyond the purchase<span class="pagenum" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</span> +of a limited quantity of arms and ammunition, +had really come to pass; but, as usual, +the inevitable informer had revealed the +alleged plot to the Government. Four arrests +had been made, but the principal efforts of +the prosecution were vigorously employed to +obtain the conviction of one prisoner in +particular—Michael White.</p> + +<p>This prisoner was a journalist, hitherto +living in one of the suburbs of London, and +acting as correspondent for certain journals +in Ireland and in America. Under a search +warrant the police had ransacked every +corner of his house. They found what purported +to be an incriminatory letter written +in invisible ink, also a glass tube containing +a liquid which, when tested by the Government +analyst, was proved to contain crystals. +These crystals, if dissolved in water, could +be used for the purpose of making impressions +on paper, and such impressions would +be invisible until copperas or certain other +chemicals had been applied. Beyond these +discoveries and the evidence of the informers, +there was but little to connect Michael White +with the alleged conspiracy.</p> + +<p>The prisoner was a handsome, middle-aged +man, whose intellectual face was in striking +contrast with those of the two shifty-eyed +and cringing informers, on whom from time<span class="pagenum" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</span> +to time he bent looks of infinite disgust and +scorn. The sympathy of not a few was +with the accused; but so strenuous was the +conduct of the prosecution, and so adverse +the judicial summing up, that only one result +could be expected from the trial.</p> + +<p>One member of White’s family was present +through the long and agonising trial—the +prisoner’s only son, and there was a double +bitterness in the young man’s heart as hour +by hour he saw the net being weaved about +his father, for he, himself, had his own +personal reason for hating Westwood, the +zealous junior counsel for the Crown. When +the fierce eyes of young Marcus White met +the barrister’s, the latter shifted his gaze, +fumbled with his papers, or made a show +of entering into conversation with other +counsel. The prisoner’s son watched these +poor devices with a contemptuous smile. +A complex, burning sense of wrong filled his +breast. The private wrong which he believed +had been done to himself by Westwood, +blended, as it were, with the wrong that he +conceived was being done to his father; and +this in turn was interwoven with the sense +of wholesale wrong inflicted during centuries +upon prisoners and captives who had come +within the iron grip of English criminal law.</p> + +<p>Marcus White, like his father, was a man<span class="pagenum" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</span> +of no small intellectual power. A journalist +who is to write anything worth reading must +read much before he writes, and the prisoner’s +son had read much. At one time it had +been intended that he should join the army +of advocates, but he turned away with repugnance +after a preliminary survey of the +law. Later, his father, to whom he was +devotedly attached, gave him some training +in his own profession, the profession of the +pen. The elder White had long had in hand +a book on the subject of barbarous punishments, +and his son diligently assisted him +in looking up and collating ancient records +of the shocking violence in times past done +to humanity under the sanction of the law. +He knew that the English Criminal Code +included at one time nearly two hundred +offences punishable with death; he knew +that this dreadful catalogue comprised innumerable +offences of the most trifling character, +while it omitted enormities of the +utmost atrocity.</p> + +<p>A study of these penal statutes and their +ruthless application had shattered his instinctive +reverence for the law and its administration. +He had learnt to see in the +sanguinary monuments of so-called justice +the oppression of the strong, the cruelty of +the cowardly, a terrible revelation of “man’s<span class="pagenum" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</span> +inhumanity to man.” His mind revolted at +the idea of a divine right in kings to hang, +draw, and quarter any one who criticised their +conduct or advocated another form of +government. It was, he held, only the +<em>Lex talionis</em>, supported by force, and all the +traps and complexities of criminal pleading +were but the miserable devices of lawyers +ever ready to prostitute a calling that in +itself was noble. History proved it—history +of which nearly every page was stained with +judgments of expediency or the dark crime +of judicial murder. “The truth, the whole +truth, and nothing but the truth,” was supposed +to have come from the poisonous lips +of such creatures as Titus Oates. The judge—he +might be a Jeffreys or a Scroggs—was +but the Government in wig and ermine. +The Crown counsel were paid pleaders for +the party in power. The docile jury, ruled +by the judge, were in effect the most obedient +servants of the Government. This, then, +was human justice—which in its true essence +was supernal and divine. This was the +Western Baal that men were called on to +revere!</p> + +<p>Rightly or wrongly, thus he reasoned. +From such thoughts there had sprung up +and still was growing and destined to grow +in the mind of Marcus White a loathing for<span class="pagenum" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</span> +the law and a desire for vengeance on all +who followed it as servitors. Such were +the feelings with which he had seen his own +father caught in these dreadful toils; practised +advocates, perjured witnesses, and crafty +detectives, all combining to bring about the +climax that was imminent.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>There was a cry of “Silence!” The jury +were stumbling back into the box; the +judges returned to the bench. Amid a breathless +stillness the Clerk of Arraigns put the +accustomed questions: “Do you find the +prisoner, Patrick Desmond, guilty or not +guilty?”—“Not guilty.”</p> + +<p>“Do you find the prisoner, John O’Leary, +guilty or not guilty?”—“Not guilty.”</p> + +<p>“Do you find the prisoner, Robert Dale, +guilty or not guilty?”—“Not guilty.”</p> + +<p>Then, last of all, “Do you find the prisoner, +Michael White, guilty or not guilty?” The +pale face of the foreman twitched; there +was a momentary hesitation in his manner. +Every ear was strained to catch the verdict. +Then, in a low voice, it came,—“Guilty.”</p> + +<p>There was a swift scratching of pens. The +Clerk of Arraigns was recording the verdict +on the parchment of the long indictment, +the judge was noting it, the counsel were +indorsing the result upon their briefs, but<span class="pagenum" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</span> +the eyes of all others were on the face of the +prisoner at the bar.</p> + +<p>“Michael White,” said the Clerk of Arraigns, +“you stand convicted upon this +indictment. Have you any cause to show +why the Court should not pass judgment +upon you?”</p> + +<p>“I have to say,” answered the prisoner, +in a clear, strong voice, “that I had no hand +in this so-called plot. My conviction has +been brought about by perjured evidence +and trickery; but, my lord, do not suppose +that I shall whine for mercy. I am not the +first man to suffer for a cause. I love my +native land, and I hate those who oppress +it. If my life could be the price of justice +to Ireland and the Irish I would gladly lay +it down; if the hand that I now raise to +heaven could bring vengeance on those who +have wronged us I should rejoice; and +though death or prison-house make me powerless, +with my last breath I would whisper +to my son to carry on the work.”</p> + +<p>For a moment the prisoner’s face was +turned towards his son’s, and there were +those in Court who saw and afterwards recalled +the answering look.</p> + +<p>Then Michael White received, unmoved, +his sentence.</p> + +<p>Penal servitude for life.</p> + + + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</span></p> + +<h3>PART II<br> +<small>RIVALS IN LOVE</small></h3> + + +<p>“Stand aside,” said Westwood, in a voice +which he vainly strove to steady.</p> + +<p>“Not yet,” was the savage answer; +“you’ve got to listen!”</p> + +<p>The two men faced each other in the calm +starlight of the April evening. The Embankment +was almost deserted save for the +huddled, heedless outcasts on the benches. +A few hansoms rattled westward; a few +small vessels, with sails spread, moved ghostly +and silent on the swirling river. Nature’s +placidity was in strange contrast with the +fiery passion that flamed in the eyes of +Marcus White and found expression in his +threatening gestures. Both men were pale; +their facial muscles tense. But the pallor +of the one was begotten of anger and hatred. +With Westwood it was the outcome of nervous +apprehension, if not of actual fear.</p> + +<p>“This is folly,” he said, with a better effort +at self-command. “So far as I am concerned +you have nothing to complain of——”</p> + +<p>“Nothing to complain of,” exclaimed +White. “What! You steal the girl who +was mine. Yes, mine,—until you sneaked +in between us——”</p> + +<p>“That is not true, White.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</span></p> + +<p>“I say you stole her—she was beguiled +away from me. I was poor, and likely to +be poorer. You had your profession, your +respectability, and your prospects. Curse +you! You’re not fit to touch her hand. +Nor am I. I know that well enough; but +I love her, and always shall. She was everything +to me—my strength, my hope—till +you stepped in; and to-night I’d think no +more of taking you by the throat and ending +your mean life than I would of crushing a +beetle or any other filthy thing beneath my heel.</p> + +<p>“I’m sorry if you think——” began Westwood. +Then he paused, half ashamed of +his own propitiatory tone, but debating how +he could appease the fury of his enemy and +escape from a situation which had become +so threatening.</p> + +<p>“And not content with taking her from +me,” the other went on, drawing a step +nearer and speaking with increased intensity, +“you stood up in Court to prosecute my +father. You and the others have helped to +send him into slavery for life. The prosecution +was a lie, I say, and you lied as much +as any of the witnesses. Not on oath; that +wasn’t wanted. You saw your chances, and +you laid hold of them. You got the advertisement +you wanted. There was deviltry +in your pretended moderation. But you<span class="pagenum" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</span> +know the tricks of your trade—your looks +and gestures to the jury said what you dared +not put in words. He was in the dock and +you were at the bar, with all its privileges +and all its honourable traditions! Faugh! +You sickened me. Yours was the face I +watched; not the judge’s; not the foreman’s +when he stood up and gave the verdict——”</p> + +<p>“Let me pass, man; you’re acting like +a madman,” said the barrister.</p> + +<p>“Ah! You’re afraid of me. Coward! +coward! You daren’t deny it.”</p> + +<p>Westwood glanced round. He had been +kept late at his chambers in Paper Buildings, +and near the corner of Temple Avenue +had come suddenly upon this enemy whom, +of all men, he least desired to meet. The +stream of wheeled traffic came steadily across +Blackfriars Bridge and branched off right +and left, but on the footway of the Embankment +still scarcely a creature was to +be seen. Westwood spoke again.</p> + +<p>“I only did my duty. The brief came +to me because of the illness of another man, +and I was bound to take it. You ought to +understand that legal etiquette——”</p> + +<p>“Legal etiquette!” exclaimed White scornfully, +“etiquette that allows you lawyers to +libel other men and twist and turn the truth +to suit your case. Etiquette that justifies<span class="pagenum" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</span> +your taking fees you don’t earn, and neglecting +cases when it suits you. For you and +your brood there is no sort of penalty. You +pose as good citizens. You talk yourselves +into Parliament, and fawn on the Government +when there are places to be given away. You +sit on the Bench and draw a year’s salary +for little more than half a year’s work, and +send to penal servitude men in whose presence +you ought to stand bare-headed.”</p> + +<p>“I can’t stay here and listen to your +raving,” said Westwood angrily.</p> + +<p>“You’ve got the best of it at present. +You’ve had us every way,” persisted White. +“There’s nothing left for me in England. +That suits your purpose, too. But, mark +my words, Westwood, I haven’t done with +you. Sooner or later the tables shall be +turned. I swear by heaven they shall! +Some day you’ll hear of me again!”</p> + +<p>Ending, he spat on him. Then, with a +contemptuous gesture, turned away. Westwood, +with a movement of disgust and anger, +took two steps as if to follow him; then +hesitated, stopped.</p> + +<p>Marcus White did not even condescend +to turn his head, but, striding eastward, +passed into the shadows of the London night.</p> + + +<p class="center big1 p2">END OF PROLOGUE</p> + + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</span></p> +</div> + +<h2 class="nobreak" >CHAPTER I<br> +<small>LONDON IN 1910</small></h2> + + +<p>An Englishman returning to his native land +after an absence of twenty-five years, might +not at first discover much difference in the +look of London. There stood the old familiar +landmarks—Buckingham Palace, St James’s, +the Marble Arch, Apsley House, Westminster +Abbey, the Houses of Parliament, the National +Gallery, the British Museum, St Paul’s, the +Tower, the Monument, and many another +well-remembered building. There were new +hotels, new theatres, new buildings of all +sorts, and at least one notable new thoroughfare. +In the great arteries of business the +old familiar thunder of the traffic rose louder +than ever, with the modern addition of a +new smell and a new noise—the smell and +the whir of the motor-car. The mean streets +were as mean as ever; the contrast between +this and that locality more than ever noticeable.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</span></p> + +<p>And the people, save for the scarcely +perceptible change in fashion of dress, at first +looked pretty much the same. There were +more loafers, more wastrels, more sprawling +scarecrows of humanity in the parks, and +along the Embankment. The richest city +in the world still had thousands and more +thousands of homeless, miserable creatures +in its midst, thousands whom the State +knew not how to save for their own sake, or +for the service of England.</p> + +<p>It would be obvious to the returned native +that the old country must long since have +ceased to be a “merry England.” The look +on the faces of the people was enough to +settle that. The intent gaze, the joyless expression, +told a convincing tale. Here and +there might be seen a flower of beauty in the +gigantic garden of weeds—a stalwart, handsome +man, a “perfect woman, nobly plann’d.” +Eyes of youth, looking eagerly upon the page +of life, still shone with the glow of hope and +happiness; young girls and young children, +in their freshness and charm, still reminded +the wayfarer that in the great design human +beings were meant to be even more beautiful +than the flowers of the field. But the vast +crowd—what had come to it, and what was +coming? Was the English race, as a race, +growing not only plain, but positively ugly?</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</span></p> + +<p>When the home-comer found time to move +about a little, he would discover that in +many respects the changes wrought in twenty-five +years were greater than he had +supposed. There were, in outlying districts, +certain new or enlarged buildings of formidable +aspect. These were the lunatic asylums +of the capital. The inquirer had to learn +that insanity had been advancing by leaps +and bounds. Five years ago the number of +London lunatics was nearly 27,000, and now +there were nearly 100,000 certified lunatics in +London. The workhouses also were larger +and fuller than ever; and in the City, the +scene of the trial of Michael White in 1885, +the old court-house, haunted with the horrors +of centuries, had given place to a new and +imposing building, with greater accommodation +for criminals. Solid, handsome, stony, +the New Bailey frowned down on the new +generation of Londoners. The City Fathers +were justly proud of their modern palace of +justice, though the question of what motto +should be inscribed over its portal gave +rise to some difference of opinion. A very +reverend dean suggested, “Defend the children +of the poor, and punish the wrong-doer,” +or words to that effect. In what way the +New Bailey was going to fulfil the first part of +the text did not seem to be quite obvious<span class="pagenum" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</span> +but certainly the massive sessions-house +looked quite equal to punishing the evil-doer. +It did not occur to any one to recommend +a text from the Koran, which declares that +to endure and forgive is the highest achievement +for humanity. Probably the City +Fathers did not read the Koran. Besides, +though in the interval we had allied ourselves +with worshippers of Buddha, England +as yet had no treaty with the unspeakable +Turk. A quotation from the sacred +book of Islam might have been considered +out of place in a nominally Christian country.</p> + +<p>Such were some of the changes brought +about in a quarter of a century. A person +of cynical mind might well doubt whether +they were changes for the better. For the +rest, the people crowded hither and thither—underground, +by tubes in all directions; +above ground, on foot, and by vehicles of +every description—mostly “motors.” By +means of the latter insignificant persons +tore through the streets, bound on errands +of no importance. The private “motors,” +of course, were owned by the pleasure-seekers +of the age, who, for all their hurry, probably +had nothing more urgent to do than to +order luncheon at a fashionable restaurant, +or purchase a box of cigarettes.</p> + +<p>Postal deliveries had been multiplied; telephone<span class="pagenum" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</span> +facilities increased. Everything was +essentially modern; the great thing was to +be up to date. But all the new facilities +for saving time and trouble seemed to have +resulted in leaving very little time for +anything. Certainly there was no time +for studying the past of England and of +the British race; and as to the future, a +great many persons believed that, for +individuals, it was as mythical as Mrs +Harris.</p> + +<p>The so-called educated classes, when not +following the compulsory routine of their +daily lives, were primarily engaged, as to +the young men, in the frenzied pursuit of +sport; and as to the young women, in the +vital study of dress, varied by a steady +perusal of their favourite authoresses in the +domain of fiction.</p> + +<p>Newspapers, of course, were scanned—by +the male population, at any rate; but people +were not equal to the intellectual exertion +of reading an unbroken column. News and +notes had to be administered on the homœopathic +principle, in scraps and snippets. And +as the Bible had not yet been abridged, it +necessarily followed that that was the very +last book that up-to-date people could find +time or interest to study.</p> + +<p>Lives of great men were still available<span class="pagenum" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</span> +to remind the moderns to make their lives +sublime. But, then, the moderns could not +find time or inclination to read the ancients. +The sublime, in their view, was not only close +to, but identical with, the ridiculous. Certainly +they could not concern themselves +with any nonsense about leaving footprints +on the sands of time. Everybody, however, +found time to read lengthy law reports arising +from scandals in high life.</p> + +<p>A considerate aristocracy had of late done +more and more to gratify public taste in that +respect. The “upper classes” quarrelled +about their children, about their heirlooms, +about the “other man,” or the “secret +woman,” about anything and everything. +But, in spite of all, the average Briton, with +inborn snobbishness, dearly loved a lord. +Kind hearts were at a discount; but coronets +fetched heavy premiums, especially in the +American market. Broadly speaking, “simple +faith” was non-existent; but Norman blood, +however vitiated, covered in a double sense +the multitude of sins. The Divorce Court +had virtually become a public laundry, in +which judge, counsel, and witnesses were +constantly engaged in washing the soiled +linen of the British peerage, a task varied, +however, by similar operations on behalf of +the ladies and gentlemen of the stage.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</span></p> + +<p>The business classes, still solid, stolid, and +worried, were mostly occupied in efforts to +put money in the purse to an extent sufficient +to meet the ever-growing expenses of modern +life in England. By reason of this problem, +there were fewer marriages than of yore; +and, yet more significant, the birth-rate fell +and fell. There was still great wealth in +England, but it was in fewer hands. The +Jew syndicates, the drink-sellers, the drapers, +and the betting agents largely absorbed the +nation’s gold. But the poor in pocket were +by no means poor in spirit. Pampered and +petted by political parties, the British working-man +had realised the uses of the weapons +placed at his disposal. He had a vote, and +he used it, whereas the middle-class man did +not. He had the weight of numbers behind +him, and he meant to use that too. Yet, +notwithstanding all these indications of decay, +there was still in every rank a goodly leaven; +the problem was, whether there was enough of +it to leaven the whole lump, and resuscitate the +nation. If, instead of the return of the native +after only twenty-five years, the boy-poet, +Keats, could have come back (from that bourn +whence no traveller returns), after nearer a +hundred years, it is to be feared he still +would have found an “inhuman dearth of +noble natures,” and still gloomier signs—</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</span></p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> +<p>“Of all the unhealthy and o’er-darkened ways<br> +Made for our searching.”</p> +</div> +</div> + +<p>It was a covetous age, but it did not covet +earnestly the best of gifts:</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> +<p>“Gentleness, Virtue, Wisdom, and Endurance,<br> +These are the seals of that most firm assurance,<br> +Which bars the pit over Destruction’s strength.”</p> +</div> +</div> + +<p>But Shelley, like Keats, was forgotten, or +unknown. The age of mediocrity had no +concern with intellectual giants; the period +of small men, with parochial ideas, nothing +in common with great conceptions of—</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> +<p>“Love from its awful throne of patient power,”</p> +</div> +</div> + + +<p>looking down upon humanity; or of humanity +ready—</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> +<p>“To suffer woes which Hope thinks infinite;<br> +To forgive wrongs darker than death or night;<br> +To defy Power, which seems omnipotent;<br> +To love, and bear; to hope till Hope creates.”</p> +</div> +</div> + +<p>It was “Everyone for himself,” but not +“devil take the hindmost”; because belief +in the Prince of Darkness, like belief in many +other things, had largely been discarded.</p> + +<p>The signs and the sounds of the times were +many and various; but, not in England only—perhaps +less in England than abroad—the +most arresting was the diapason note of +a steady march. The rolling rhythm of a +mighty organ; the tramp, tramp, tramp of +the many millions, drawing nearer and nearer.</p> + + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</span></p> +</div> + +<h2 class="nobreak" >CHAPTER II<br> +<small>AT THE NEW BAILEY</small></h2> + + +<p>For three days public attention had been +riveted on another sensational trial that had +packed the New Bailey with an excited +audience, and filled the report columns of the +London papers. It was alleged that a daring +and gigantic fraud had been practised on +charitable persons, and, what was worse, not +merely on persons, but on personages, highly +placed in Church and State. Many distinguished +victims had gone into the witness-box, +and told their tale; and therein, for the +time being, lay the main interest of the trial. +Again, ladies of social celebrity, eager for a +new sensation, had importuned city officials +and the Judge himself for the equivalent of +stalls to see the show. The Society journals +gushingly described their excellent taste—in +the matter of dress.</p> + +<p>Lord Malvern, the Chief Justice, had come +down to try the case, and his counterfeit<span class="pagenum" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</span> +presentment in various attitudes of wisdom +or weariness had figured in the <em>Daily Graphic</em>, +with those of the prisoners, witnesses, and +counsel. In this instance the prisoners themselves +were persons of little interest or importance; +for it was well understood that +they were practically dummies, put forward, +and, it was said, well paid for running the +risk of capture. There was what the papers +call a brilliant array of counsel. For the +Crown, Sir John Westwood, Solicitor-General, +led three other learned gentlemen, of whom +“Bobby” Herrick was the least of juniors; +and on the other side were ranged five advocates, +the best the Bar could produce or +money retain—the leaders being the well-known +K.C.’s—Mr Duffus Jacobs, Mr Brill, +and Mr Dawson Dalton.</p> + +<p>The elaborate nature of the conspiracy had +only gradually been unfolded. It was amazing +in its audacity; and yet in the minds of +those who were specially qualified to read +between the lines, there was a strong conviction +that something much more serious +lay behind. It was proved, indeed, that +many thousands of pounds had passed into +the coffers of the London Emigration League, +but it was whispered that not one-tenth of +the plunder had been brought to light or +traced. The actual figures were believed to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</span> +run into scores of thousands, systematically +collected under false pretences during a +period of ten months and more. Dukes +and lesser peers, with bishops, deans, prominent +canons of the Church, and City magnates, +had been made the puppets of the +wire-pullers. As patrons they gave their +names as well as their money to this well-sounding +scheme, which professed to have +for its object the sending of the loafers, +wastrels, hooligans, and gaol-birds of the +homeland to Canada, Australia, and South +Africa. The project found favour, to some +extent because it appealed indirectly to +self-interest. The growing turbulence of +the unemployed and unemployable seriously +menaced social order, and the annual expenditure +on prisons and workhouses had +brought about an enormous increase in the +rates.</p> + +<p>The scheme of the League, appealing thus +to a spurious philanthropy, when once +launched, was urged forward day by day +under the auspices of illustrious names, and +boldly pushed by means of page advertisements +in the leading London newspapers. At +the Mansion House the Lord Mayor presided +over an enthusiastic meeting in support of +the League. A resolution, moved by a +member of the Royal Family, was received<span class="pagenum" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</span> +with plaudits and carried with acclamation. +Thereafter, from leading assurance offices, +and banking houses, and from City men of +wealth and influence, munificent donations +flowed in thick and fast. These gifts were +freely advertised. The first list drew another +list, and so forth. The snowball rolled and +rolled.</p> + +<p>Doubt and suspicion, whispered here and +there, were silenced or pooh-poohed. The +League stood out boldly in the light of day. +Its huge offices on Holborn Viaduct were filled +with an army of clerks and typists by day; +and by night its name was flashed ceaselessly, +like that of a catchpenny soap or tobacco, +before the eyes of wondering passers-by. +Reports were issued to subscribers throughout +the kingdom, who were given to understand +that the colonial branches of the League +were being steadily developed into working +order, and that soon the farms and industries +designed to provide honest labour for the outcasts +of the crowded mother country would +be available for the eager emigrants.</p> + +<p>The various colonies indicated were not +quite keen in their appreciation of the project. +Colonial journals protested against an influx +of ex-convicts. Canada wanted population, +but it must be population of the right sort; +and Australia saw in the scheme a dangerous<span class="pagenum" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</span> +likeness to the old transportation system, +with all the attendant evils of a penal settlement.</p> + +<p>An officer of the League complained strongly +in the <em>Times</em> of the misunderstanding and +obstruction that thus hindered the fulfilment +of their meritorious aims. Influential deputations +of patrons and vice-presidents went to +the Colonial Office, and waited also on the +Prime Minister. The Crown agents of the +Colonies were interviewed; and, the League, +remaining prominently in evidence day by +day, drew in, though more slowly as the +months went by, additional subscriptions +from all classes of society.</p> + +<p>Then, suddenly, a bolt fell from the blue. +Mr Vandelaire, the owner-editor of the <em>Detector</em>, +published an article in which he declared +in round terms that the whole scheme +was an imposture, a colossal fraud in root and +branch. He boldly named the leading officials +of the League as participators in a +nefarious project, and politely informed them +that if they considered the article was libellous, +his solicitors (the much-paragraphed Messrs +Ely & Ely) would be ready to accept service +of legal process. Other articles followed, and +were eagerly read and quoted. They suggested +that there was a rich and reckless +man behind the League, the prime mover in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</span> +a mammoth project of deception; that the +officials in question were, for the most part, +figureheads; and finally, that robbery was +not the real object of this daring and dangerous +organisation.</p> + +<p>Questions were asked in Parliament, and +evaded in the usual Governmental manner. +The <em>Daily Telephone</em> devoted columns to the +letters of correspondents, some of whom—guileless +“constant readers” and others—angrily +protested against “malicious attacks +upon a great and meritorious scheme,” while, +on the other hand, a few vehemently invoked +the criminal law and declared that the +Treasury Solicitor was a useless functionary +unless, in such circumstances, he set the law +in motion. Even the law officers of the +Crown, sadly injured men who only wanted +to draw their enormous salaries in peace and +quietness, came in for criticism. Presumptuous +persons actually wanted to know what +they did for the money. It became quite +manifest that the public demanded a prosecution +of the League, and meant to have it. +Ultimately, and, as it were with infinite +reluctance, warrants were applied for and +granted.</p> + +<p>A prolonged magisterial enquiry resulted, +after endless remands, in the committal of +the secretary and chief cashier of the League<span class="pagenum" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</span> +to take their trial at the Bailey. Such was +the stage that had now been reached in this +amazing drama of the day.</p> + +<p>On a certain Saturday in April—five-and-twenty +years after Michael White went down +into the silence of imprisonment, soon to +pass into the greater silence of a yet narrower +cell; five-and-twenty years after his son had +uttered his savage warning to John Westwood, +the sequel was beginning to take shape.</p> + +<p>As yet it was a little cloud, no bigger than +a man’s hand; but the cloud was destined +to grow to vast proportions, blacker and +more threatening as time went on, shadowing +London with a great terror of darkness, and +begetting fear throughout the length and +breadth of England.</p> + + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</span></p> +</div> + +<h2 class="nobreak" >CHAPTER III<br> +<small>THE LEAGUERS’ FIRST MOVE</small></h2> + + +<p>In the Solicitor-General’s chambers, in Paper +Buildings, Bobby Herrick was fuming, and +looking at his watch. At intervals Wilson, +the head-clerk, fussed in and out with briefs +and papers. All the bundles were tied together +with the inevitable tape; well may +it blush red for the unholy and mendacious +things it has enfolded! Westwood’s clerk, +however, never blushed. For one thing, he +had bargained so remorselessly for heavier +fees at moments critical for his employer’s +clients that he had lost the power of feeling +shame. For another, he had a thick and +doughy skin which preserved the same unhealthy +hue at all times and in all places. +He was a prosperous man, belonging, it was +said, to the ranks of “gigmanity,” for he kept +his pony chaise at Brixton. There were +some who said that Josiah Wilson would sell +his little soul for gold if only Mephistopheles<span class="pagenum" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</span> +would care to make a bid. He certainly had +investments, and his average income from +“clerk’s fees” (which immemorial usage +extracts from the client, instead of from the +advocate) was quite substantial. Many a +struggling junior at the Bar would have been +thankful to earn a third of that average income. +Wilson really earned nothing except +in the manner indicated; but he wore a +silk-fronted frock-coat and a massive watch-chain. +Nature, in its abhorrence of a straight +line, had taken care that there should be +no straight line in the waistcoat which that +gleaming chain adorned.</p> + +<p>“Sir John’s late this morning,” said +Wilson.</p> + +<p>“Yes, I know he is,” agreed Herrick impatiently.</p> + +<p>“Something wrong, I expect,” suggested +Wilson, with a shifty look.</p> + +<p>“Good heavens! I hope not.” Herrick +started up. “Why, everything depends on +his being in Court. He’s going to claim his +privilege and reply on the whole case for the +Crown.”</p> + +<p>“He can’t if he isn’t there,” said Wilson. +“He was a bit queer yesterday. Liver—that’s +what it is,” he added hesitatingly.</p> + +<p>“Confound his liver!” Herrick muttered, +under the slight cover of his fair moustache.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</span> +“Look here,” he said aloud, “why don’t you +ring him up?”</p> + +<p>“I might do that,” assented Wilson, but +not with enthusiasm.</p> + +<p>“He seemed all right in Court yesterday; +a bit fagged, nothing more. It’s the House +that knocks him up.”</p> + +<p>“He wasn’t all right last night when I +took down that last report from Scotland +Yard.”</p> + +<p>“Well, go and ring them up, man. There’s +hardly time to get there before the Court +sits, and the Lord Chief won’t wait for anyone.”</p> + +<p>In a few moments he heard Wilson’s “Are +you there?”—the feeble stereotyped inquiry +of the telephonist—and presently the tinkle +of the bell in the outer room in answer. +Herrick felt nervous and excited—moved by +an unaccountable apprehension of sinister +happenings. So far as he knew at the moment, +he had nothing to do but prompt his +leader in regard to dates and details, if Westwood’s +memory or private notes should fail +him. The case had been a professional and +financial godsend to the young barrister. Of +course he knew perfectly well that the brief +had not come to him as the just due of his +talents. He was young, untried, and inexperienced—except +in his capacity as one<span class="pagenum" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</span> +of the lesser “devils” in the Solicitor-General’s +forensic Hades. The Treasury Solicitor gave +him brief No. 4 because it was officially known +that it would suit Sir John Westwood to +have him in the case. He also happened to +be a young fellow of good family, with a not +very remote chance of succeeding to an earldom; +finally, he was engaged to be married +to Sir John Westwood’s only daughter.</p> + +<p>While Wilson seemed to be trying to extract +intelligible information over the wires, +Herrick took a turn up and down the slip of +a back room in which he worked; then he +stood awhile with his bulky brief tucked +under his arm, and hands clasped behind him, +gazing across the sunlit grass in the gardens. +It was a perfect spring morning in point of +weather, and Bobby, as the Bar called him, +reflected how pleasant it would be if he and +Aldwyth Westwood were up the river, or +sauntering side by side along the woodland +ways.</p> + +<p>Suddenly the door behind him was opened, +and the staccato voice of a boy-clerk announced, +“Miss Westwood.”</p> + +<p>“Father can’t come! Isn’t it dreadfully +unlucky?” she exclaimed, entering in a +whirlwind of “frock and frill.”</p> + +<p>“Unlucky!” echoed Herrick, turning, +aghast; “why, it’s the very—— Well, it’s<span class="pagenum" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</span> +simply disastrous! I firmly believe that unless +he has the last word to the jury, they’ll +acquit those scoundrels. The prosecution will +fall through like a house of cards! Is anything +serious the matter?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know—I can’t make out,” was +the girl’s anxious answer. “He seems quite——well, +almost stupefied this morning. Of +course you know he’s not been well for some +time past, and last night——” She paused, +her lips trembling, tears in her tender +eyes.</p> + +<p>“My dear girl, I’m so awfully sorry,” said +Herrick, taking her hand. “It can’t be +helped. Don’t worry; the doctor will pull +him round in no time. You sent for one, of +course?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I telephoned to Queen Anne Street +before I left.”</p> + +<p>“What message did your father send +me?”</p> + +<p>“None at all—isn’t it dreadful? He +seemed quite indifferent, and, as I told you, +almost stupefied. When I questioned him, +he seemed to have no power to answer clearly. +When he spoke, his voice was thick and I +could hardly understand a word he said.”</p> + +<p>“Good heavens! It sounds as if some +drug had been at work. I suppose he +never——?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</span></p> + +<p>“I am quite sure he never takes a drug +of any sort,” was the girl’s emphatic answer +to the unfinished question.</p> + +<p>“No, of course not, of course not,” said +her lover soothingly; then, looking once +more at his watch: “Well, I ought to see +our other leader at once, that’s clear.”</p> + +<p>“That’s Mr Boulton, isn’t it?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, Boulton. Look here, will you come +down to the Bailey in my hansom, and we’ll +talk about this on the way?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I can do that, and then drive home +again,” she agreed readily.</p> + +<p>“And you must tell Sir John he needn’t +worry. I daresay the case will work out all +right, after all.”</p> + +<p>“You don’t think so really,” said Aldwyth, +looking with her clear eyes into his.</p> + +<p>And in his heart of hearts he did not.</p> + +<p>Within a few minutes they were driving +eastward as fast as the congested traffic of +the street, alleged to have been specially +beloved by Dr Johnson, would permit. On +Blackfriars Bridge, cabs, omnibuses, vans, +and vehicles of all sorts, held back by the +raised hand of the constable on duty, were +let loose just as the hansom in which the +lovers sat had reached the end of Fleet Street. +There was nothing unusual or remarkable +in being blocked. But what struck Herrick<span class="pagenum" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</span> +as distinctly odd was the vast number of low-class +pedestrians who were to be noticed +streaming over the bridge from the Surrey +side, and turning to the right up Ludgate +Hill. The crowd impeded the vehicular traffic +under the railway bridge, and blocked the +narrow turning which gave access to that +ancient bit of London, still popularly known +as the Old Bailey. As Herrick stood up to +pay the cabman presently, he noticed with +surprise that other streams of people of the +same low order seemed to be converging +from Holborn, Giltspur Street, and Newgate +Street.</p> + +<p>What did it mean? When he had sent +Aldwyth off in the hansom with a lover’s +look for herself and a last message of sympathy +for her father, he turned to Henshaw, +the detective inspector, who was +standing near counsel’s entrance to the +Courts.</p> + +<p>“Where’s all this riff-raff coming from,” +asked the barrister.</p> + +<p>“Slums,” said Henshaw briefly.</p> + +<p>“But why?”</p> + +<p>“Ah! that’s the question! Honourable +members of this precious League, perhaps. +There’s more in this affair than meets the +eye, Mr Herrick.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</span></p> + +<p>“The jury won’t know what to make of +it.”</p> + +<p>“Begging your pardon, I think they’ll be +made to know.”</p> + +<p>“What!—intimidation? Surely not!”</p> + +<p>“P’raps we’ll know more about it after a +bit,” said the detective; and, with eyes +scanning the growing crowd, he moved quietly +away.</p> + +<p>“Pass along; pass along there, please,” +said the uniformed men, with monotonous +iteration; and Herrick, ere he hurried into +the building, noticed that half a dozen of the +constables were busily employed in keeping +the fast-gathering multitude in motion.</p> + +<p>“Bad news about Boulton,” were almost +the first words he heard in one of the corridors. +The speaker was a circuit chum of his, +and one of the junior counsel on the other +side.</p> + +<p>“Why! What do you mean?” he demanded +anxiously.</p> + +<p>“What! haven’t you heard? Set upon +by hooligans near St Pancras station last +night. Picked up insensible, and taken to +the hospital in Gray’s Inn Road. We shall +be on directly,” and, tilting up his wig, the +speaker hurried down the corridor.</p> + +<p>A sense of planned events, a fatalistic feeling,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</span> +gripped Herrick at the heart. Then, with +a deep-drawn breath, he turned into the +robing room—the armoury of forensic fray. +While he robed, he looked round eagerly for +Arthur Dutton, who held brief No. 3 for the +prosecution. Dutton was a stuff gownsman +of many years’ experience, a master of criminal +pleading—on paper and parchment—and +one of the permanent advisers of the Crown. +If Dutton were in good form, all might yet +be well; though, unfortunately, as advocate +he did not usually excel. But Dutton was +nowhere to be seen, and that morning nobody +had come across him. Of course it might +be that he was already in his place in Court, +and thither Herrick hurried, entering just +as cries of “Silence!” from the ushers +heralded the approach of Lord Malvern, the +presiding judge.</p> + +<p>“Where’s Sir John?” asked the Assistant +Treasury Solicitor in an anxious whisper. +In a few hurried sentences Herrick informed +him of the great man’s sudden illness.</p> + +<p>“Both our leaders absent! Good heavens! +What’s going to happen?”</p> + +<p>What actually happened next was the +passing of a telegram from hand to hand +until it reached the Treasury official.</p> + +<p>“Read that,” he said, and sat back in his +seat, dismayed.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</span></p> + +<p>Herrick read the message. It was as +follows:—</p> + +<p>“<em>To Treasury Solicitor,<br> +“Central Criminal Court.</em></p> + +<p>“<em>Have received telegram reporting dangerous +illness of my father. Am leaving town for +Windermere.</em></p> + +<p>“<em>From Dutton, Euston Station.</em>”</p> + + + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</span></p> +</div> + +<h2 class="nobreak" >CHAPTER IV<br> +<small>THE CASE THAT FAILED</small></h2> + + +<p>Bobby Herrick was sound in wind and +limb; healthy in heart and brain; but for +a moment or two he sat dazed and helpless +in face of the position that confronted him. +The whole thing seemed unreal, impossible, +and the monotonous calling of the names of +the jurymen fell upon his ears like a buzzing +sound of no intelligible significance. The +faces in Court blended into a sort of misty +phantasmagoria, until out of the mist one +face immediately opposite him riveted his +attention. Presently it stood out, distinct +and well defined, with a watchful look in the +dark and piercing eyes, and a sardonic smile +on its upward curving lips. It was a face to +be remembered; a face he was destined to +see again in the course of those tragic episodes +which the history of events in London was +shortly to unfold.</p> + +<p>The Treasury Solicitor, he found, was plucking<span class="pagenum" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</span> +at his gown. “You must ask for an +adjournment,” he whispered urgently; “it +is the only thing to do.” Almost at the +same moment the judge’s voice was heard. +His lordship spoke with eye directed towards +the vacant seats of the prosecuting counsel.</p> + +<p>“Where are your leaders, Mr Herrick?”</p> + +<p>Herrick rose amid the silence that succeeded +the inquiry, conscious that every eye in Court +was fixed upon him.</p> + +<p>“My lord,” he said, in a voice slightly +tremulous at first, “by a most unfortunate +and remarkable combination of events, my +learned friends are prevented from being +present.”</p> + +<p>“Surely not all of them!” exclaimed the +judge. “I heard some rumour of an accident +to Mr Boulton—is it true?”</p> + +<p>“He was attacked and maltreated in the +street last night, my lord, and is now in +hospital.”</p> + +<p>“Another example of the growing spirit +of lawlessness which prevails in this city,” +said the Chief Justice sternly. “I deplore +the absence of Mr Boulton, especially for +such a reason; but where is the Solicitor-General?”</p> + +<p>“I regret to inform your lordship that he +has been seized with sudden and, I fear, +serious illness.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</span></p> + +<p>“This is most extraordinary,” said the +Chief Justice, leaning back and taking off +his glasses.</p> + +<p>“Silence!” cried the usher, as a hum of +subdued comment arose in the body of the +Court.</p> + +<p>“What makes the position still more +serious, my lord,” continued Herrick, “is +the absence of Mr Dutton also, for reasons +of a family nature.”</p> + +<p>“Is there no likelihood of his being here +presently?”</p> + +<p>“He has been summoned to the north of +England, and left Euston this morning, my +lord, as stated in this telegram.”</p> + +<p>“A chapter of accidents, indeed! Well, +Mr Herrick, <em>you</em> are here.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, but being taken by surprise, I am +quite unable to do justice to the prosecution, +and my instructions are to ask your lordship +to adjourn the trial.”</p> + +<p>“To that the defence cannot possibly +assent,” interposed Mr Jacobs, on his feet +instantly. “I speak at any rate for the +prisoner whom I represent.”</p> + +<p>“I say the same on behalf of my client, +my lord,” added Mr Brill.</p> + +<p>“Well, Mr Herrick——?” from the judge.</p> + +<p>“My learned friend is too modest,” said +Jacobs.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</span></p> + +<p>“<em>Timeo Danaos et dona ferentes</em>,” retorted +Herrick, with happy inspiration.</p> + +<p>Lord Malvern laughed a silent little laugh, +and an audible little laugh went round the +Court from those who understood the tag, +and from those also who laugh because others +laugh; for always man, as Lord Beaconsfield +truly observed, is mimetic.</p> + +<p>Then the brief flash of merriment died +out, and the Court came back to business.</p> + +<p>“It is perfectly clear that the trial must +proceed,” said the learned judge. “Much +public time has already been devoted to the +case, and, I may add, much public money. +The convenience of the jury and of many +witnesses must be considered. This is the +fourth day we have been here, and it is +desirable on every ground that it should be +the last.”</p> + +<p>“But, my lord, the Crown will lose the +benefit of Sir John Westwood’s reply on the +whole case.”</p> + +<p>“Sir John Westwood is not here, Mr +Herrick.”</p> + +<p>“And the privilege of a law officer of the +Crown in the connection mentioned is thought +by some to be the more honoured in the +breach than in the observance,” remarked +Mr Jacobs.</p> + +<p>“On this occasion you are for the defence,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</span> +Mr Jacobs,” said his lordship. “On another +occasion——” His lordship paused, with a +humorous twinkle in his eye, and the gap +was filled with a burst of laughter this time; +for it was well known that the successful +Hebrew advocate had his unsatisfied ambitions.</p> + +<p>“Are there any witnesses for the defence?” +asked the Chief Justice, when silence was +restored.</p> + +<p>“I call none,” said Mr Jacobs; and Mr +Brill merely shook his head by way of answer +for his client.</p> + +<p>“Very well, then, it only remains for Mr +Herrick to address the jury. Counsel for +the prisoners will follow, and my summing-up +will not occupy more than an hour. The +jury will understand,” said his lordship, +turning towards them, “that however unfortunate +the absence of the leading counsel, +and however valuable the speeches of those +who are present, it is upon the facts, and +the facts alone, that their verdict must be +based, according to the evidence. Now, Mr +Herrick.”</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>Thus it came about that greatness of a +sort was thrust upon Aldwyth Westwood’s +lover. Thus did fortune place in his way a +golden opportunity. But this is no story of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</span> +a young barrister’s triumphant achievement, +according to the interesting precedents recorded +by the lady novelists. Young Herrick, +at this stage of the strange and terrible +game then opening, was little better than a +pawn on the chessboard of a master-player. +Throughout the moves that followed on that +Saturday in April, he felt half conscious of +the fact, and the face which had looked out +of the mist at the beginning seemed to dominate +him until the end.</p> + +<p>Herrick, thought most of his friends, rose +to the occasion, dealing effectively with the +complex facts and figures of the case. There +were others who shrugged their shoulders, +and merely conceded that he “did his best,” +considering how heavily he was overweighted. +In reality, the performance was nothing to +be ashamed of; nothing to boast of. The +older and more experienced advocates on the +other side paid him some handsome compliments +when their innings came. But that +did not prevent them from making mince-meat +of his arguments, and hammering home +their own. It may be doubted, however, +whether the most powerful advocate who +ever breathed the air of the Criminal Courts +of England would have drawn a verdict of +Guilty from the jury.</p> + +<p>The judge, in his lucid summing-up, virtually<span class="pagenum" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</span> +told them to convict; but there were +other and more powerful influences at work. +As the trial proceeded, the voice of a great +crowd outside the walls of the Court rose in +tumultuous sounds at intervals. In spite of +the efforts of the police, it became only too +plain that there was a demonstration—organised, +determined; and that, for reasons +then but imperfectly understood, the acquittal +of the prisoners was demanded. It was, in +effect, the first skirmish in that campaign +against the forces of law and order, of which, +presently, London was to be the battleground. +The voice of the people prevailed. After an +hour’s absence, and sundry messages of +inquiry from the Chief Justice, the jury returned +into Court with a verdict of “Not +guilty.”</p> + +<p>“And that is the verdict of you all,” +echoed the Clerk of Arraigns in the usual +formula.</p> + +<p>Here and there in the packed Court there +was an involuntary exclamation.</p> + +<p>“Silence! silence!” came from the ushers +and police.</p> + +<p>“The prisoners will be discharged,” said +the judge, whose manner had assumed the +utmost gravity, “and,” he added significantly, +“the jury will be discharged also from further +duties in the box during the present sessions.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</span></p> + +<p>Lord Malvern left the Bench as the two +prisoners disappeared down the steps leading +from the dock.</p> + +<p>A babel of voices arose outside the building, +and grew, unchecked, until it became a mighty +roar of triumph from the mob.</p> + +<p>The verdict was known; cheer after cheer +broke out, and the accused, prisoners no +longer, were received as heroes, and borne +shoulder high from the gates of the prison, +through the streets of London.</p> + + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</span></p> +</div> + +<h2 class="nobreak" >CHAPTER V<br> +<small>THE LEAGUERS’ SECOND MOVE</small></h2> + + +<p>Rumour has many wings, and, though the +following day was Sunday, rumour fluttered +through clubland in the morning, giving rise +to many languid speculations concerning the +true inwardness of the New Bailey episode +of the previous day. It was regarded, for +the most part, as an isolated incident, and +not as the first link in a chain of significant +events. It only began to be recognised in +the latter character when it became known +that the telegram which had drawn the well-known +Treasury counsel, Arthur Dutton, to +the north, was an absolute forgery, and +devoid of any sort of truth or justification. +In the light of this discovery, the attack +which had incapacitated his leader, Mr +Boulton, assumed a sinister suggestiveness. +But even then, there was no one in the West +End clubs who attributed the inopportune, or +opportune, illness of Sir John Westwood to +any other than purely natural causes.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</span></p> + +<p>Some light might have been thrown on +that point by his trusted clerk, or, indirectly, +by Wilson’s wife, who on Sunday afternoon +found her husband contemplating a bank-note +with interest so thoughtful and absorbed +that he did not hear his better-half +approach.</p> + +<p>“Bless and save us! what are you staring +at there?” demanded Mrs Wilson, who +always was tart of tone and imperative in +manner.</p> + +<p>“It’s a Bank of England note,” was +Wilson’s reply.</p> + +<p>“How much?” demanded Mrs Wilson.</p> + +<p>“Five hundred pounds,” said Wilson, +slowly; and he straightway lied according +to his lights, when the wife of his bosom, +who had the instincts of a cross-examiner, +pursued her vehement inquiries.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, the weather being charming, +London society had been taking its Sunday +airing in Hyde Park under surprising and +inconvenient conditions. Between three and +four o’clock great numbers of people of the +type that had visited the Old Bailey on the +previous day assembled on the south side +of the Serpentine. Here, lining the rails, +they shouted, yelled, and hooted at the passing +carriages, to the surprise and alarm of +their elegantly-attired occupants. Whistling,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</span> +groans, and discordant noises filled the air. +The turbulent throng grew and grew, and +under the shield of popular excitement, +thieves, pickpockets, and other disorderly +persons employed themselves with their accustomed +diligence. A hulking youth ran +before a carriage and repeatedly struck the +horse’s nose with his cap. Mud was thrown +at some of the brilliant sunshades that flashed +past, and a gentleman on horseback was +almost unseated by part of a hurdle thrown +at him by a ruffian lurking in the crowd. +Horses plunged; some fell; while the mob +expressed its feelings in triumphant jeers and +mocking laughter. Presently volleys of stones +began to fly, and as yet the police were present +in such small numbers as to be practically +helpless in the face of this unlooked-for +display of ruffianism.</p> + +<p>But while the unexpected was happening +in the Park, the more or less expected had +come to pass not far away. Sir John Westwood +lived in Hill Street, and it had been +his fate, as representing the Government, to +incur the resentment of the masses by bringing +into the House a Sunday Trading Bill of +somewhat drastic character. The people—particularly +the East-enders—were savage +at the attempt to close the public-houses on +the first day of the week, and jeered at the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</span> +suggestion that they should go to church as +an alternative resort.</p> + +<p>On the Saturday evening, a handbill was +widely circulated in the lower quarters of the +capital. This was how it ran:</p> + +<p class="big1 center p1 p1b"><span class="smcap">Let us go to Church<br> +With Sir John Westwood To-morrow.<br> +Afterwards there will be a<br> +Grand Open-Air Fête and Monster<br> +Concert in Hyde Park.<br> +Come and see how Religiously<br> +London Society observes the Sabbath.</span></p> + +<p>Thus it came about that a crowd of many +hundreds gathered in front of the Solicitor-General’s +house, and held their ground obstinately, +notwithstanding the persuasive efforts +of a small body of police to move them on. +No actual violence was used by the crowd, +but their groans, yells, and persistent clamour +were sufficiently alarming.</p> + +<p>To Aldwyth Westwood, a girl of spirit, the +demonstration caused more indignation than +fear. Her chief concern was for her father. +Sir John had now recovered to some extent +from his strange condition of physical inertness +on the previous day. Silent, but manifestly +disturbed, he sat in his study at the +back of the house, compelled to listen to the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</span> +tumult of execration directed against him in +the street. He was for drastic measures with +the mob, but the divisional superintendent +was either timid or discreet. He met the +angry inquiry whether London was to be at +the mercy of a hooting mob, by saying that +he had no orders to resort to force to clear +the street, and that patience and time were +the best remedies, so long as no actual violence +was attempted. The Solicitor-General +acquiesced with a contemptuous shrug; as +also in the advice that the front shutters +should be closed, and the frightened servants +directed not to show themselves.</p> + +<p>Stolid and calm, the police stood on the +doorsteps, and in the area, while the roughs +shouted themselves hoarse. At the end of +a couple of hours came news that things were +growing lively near the Serpentine; and +thereupon, nearly half the Hill Street crowd +hastened to the Park in search of something +fresh and more exciting. Hastily, but still +not sufficiently, reinforced, the police now +attempted to check the conduct of the crowd, +which had already driven all but a few of +the pluckier carriage people homeward. Many +of the most disorderly characters had now +mustered near the Royal Humane Society’s +Receiving House. A body of police, with +truncheons drawn, marched along the drive<span class="pagenum" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</span> +to clear it of pedestrians. Those who would +not give way were pushed or roughly handled. +The same tactics were pursued on the footpath +on the south side of the Serpentine, and +here much confusion and excitement arose, +many persons being forced ankle-deep into +the water. Women, who had got mixed +with the crowd, screamed with terror. The +wail of frightened children filled the air, and +angry cries were raised against the constables, +some of whom were struck by stones and +clods of earth.</p> + +<p>At the same time, some fifty constables, +under Superintendent Helden, reached Grosvenor +Gate. There, the men were formed +in a column of sections of ten, having a front +of five men, and marched towards a threatening +section of the mob. Instead of retiring, +the people received the police defiantly and +with an angry yell. The superintendent +shouted to them to give way, but the warning +was disregarded. Suddenly some one +tripped him up. He fell and hurt his knee; +and, thus provoked, the men with drawn +truncheons rushed forward, and, without +orders, attacked the crowd. A savage <em>melée</em> +was the result. From that moment there +were conflicts of a similar character throughout +the Park. Reinforcements of police were +hurried up, and further conflicts followed. So<span class="pagenum" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</span> +grave did the situation become as the evening +hours drew on that large reserves of constables +were mustered at Stanhope Gate, the Triumphal +Arch, the Marble Arch, and Walton +Street, and in Lowndes Square.</p> + +<p>Ere darkness fell the Humane Society’s +Receiving House became a temporary prison; +a riotous mob demanded the release of their +friends, and there were many ugly rushes, +repelled with difficulty by the police. Cabs +now were sent for, and seventy persons, +charged with assaults, disorderly conduct, +and resisting the police, were removed, amid +a storm of angry cries, to the Police stations. +By nine o’clock the Park was cleared.</p> + +<p>Thus ended the first skirmish in the campaign +of the Leaguers of London against the +forces of law and order.</p> + + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</span></p> +</div> + +<h2 class="nobreak" >CHAPTER VI<br> +<small>THE MURDER OF DR GRADY</small></h2> + + +<p>The weather prophets declared that it was +to be one of the driest and hottest summers +on record; and, for once, the prophets seemed +in a fair way to be justified. The strain +of the long, bright, rainless days began to +tell upon Londoners. Two or three terrific +thunderstorms shook the nerves of the feeble. +Sundry earthquake shocks, though remote +from these islands, imparted a sense of apprehension, +and concurrently with these stern +manifestations of Mother Nature, there were +other hints of dread events—suggestive of a +moral cataclysm, a war of classes, a volcanic +outburst that would rend the bounds of social +life.</p> + +<p>In this state of disquietude, sensational +revivalism moved many neurotic persons to +grotesque manifestations in the name of religion. +And, on the other hand, it was well +known that vice was rampant in every class<span class="pagenum" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</span> +of society, the eagerness of the pleasure-seekers +for some new excitement, however +vulgar or debasing, assuming the proportions +of a mania.</p> + +<p>“Scenes” in Parliament were of almost +weekly occurrence, and signs of hysteria +became manifest, even in the speech and +conduct of men who held office as cabinet-ministers +or as judges. Though the Government +was tottering to its fall, the Opposition, +torn with internal jealousies, was not in a +position to take advantage of its opportunities. +Difficult problems of international +law had arisen, but the Attorney-General, +who had for some time been suffering from +a mortal disease, was practically unavailable +as an adviser, while the second law officer, +Sir John Westwood, was said to still be incapacitated +by what eminent doctors described +as complete “nervous breakdown.”</p> + +<p>In the midst of this debilitated condition +of political and social life, there was one +movement which day by day seemed to +gather strength and audacity. The London +Emigration League still stood forward to +claim attention and collect funds. White-washed, +in a sense, by the verdict at the +Central Criminal Court, the Leaguers of +London, as they were now generally called, +published appeals to the charitable, and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</span> +organised marches and demonstrations, which, +without committing actual breaches of the +law, made known the ever-increasing numbers +of the League, and its strangely cosmopolitan +membership.</p> + +<p>It was the foreign element in the League +that gave rise to special uneasiness at the +Home Office and Scotland Yard. Ere long +the sense of insecurity already germinating +in the public mind was greatly accentuated +by a startling discovery, rumoured, though +not yet proved, to be connected with the +Leaguers’ campaign. This was nothing less +than the unmasking by Detective-Inspector +Henshaw of a dynamite factory, only seventeen +miles from London. In all probability +the discovery would never have been made +but for a murder of revenge, almost unexampled +in its cold and calculated deliberation, +and in all respects notable in the annals +of criminology. It was a story of the ruthless +edict of a secret society within a society, and +that society was believed to be none other +than the League; it revealed, when the story +became fully known, the remorseless execution +of a mysterious mandate, which yet +again illustrated the truth that, however +subtle and well considered the plan of crime, +murder, in the end, will out.</p> + +<p>The victim of the crime was one Grady, a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</span> +doctor, who, after spending some years in +New York, had come to England and acquired +a fifth-rate medical practice in the purlieus +of Holborn. His house and surgery were +in Red Lion Street, not far from Red Lion +Square. Grady was a man of ill-balanced +mind, and given to intemperance. For some +reason, never fully explained, he quarrelled +with his friends. And, justly or unjustly, +was suspected of betraying their plans to +the police.</p> + +<p>The doctor became an object of hatred +and fear in the eyes of his former associates, +and the inner circle—or “actives,” +as they were euphoniously styled—deliberately +sentenced him to death. Early in +June a man passing under the name of +Featherstone took a room in the house facing +that in which the ill-fated doctor carried on +his miserable practice. Some articles of furniture +and other things, including a large +packing case, were bought by Featherstone +and sent to his lodgings. At about the same +time Featherstone, under the name Rolf, +became the tenant of a house at Rickmansworth, +which was let with a builder’s yard +containing sundry sheds and outbuildings. +Ostensibly these premises were to be used +for the purpose of manufacturing Portland +cement. At the end of the garden and yard<span class="pagenum" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</span> +ran the Grand Junction Canal. Close at +hand was the River Colne; and in this way +facilities were available to convey chalk +and clay from a neighbouring estate to the +“factory,” and to send the cement, when +manufactured, on barges to London.</p> + +<p>Rolf, the “innocent manufacturer,” who +was bent on developing this useful industry, +advertised for a medical man to attend his +workmen in case of illness or accident, and +a marked copy of the paper containing the +advertisement was sent to Grady. The +doctor, compelled, doubtless, by his needy +circumstances, swallowed the bait, and without +much delay a contract was made with +him on “club terms.”</p> + +<p>The significance of this was that cement-making +is not really a dangerous trade, and +that there were many doctors practising +nearer to Rickmansworth.</p> + +<p>One night, a few weeks later, a man drove +up in a cab, presented Rolf’s card to Dr +Grady, and said his services were required +at the cement works for one of the workmen, +who had met with an accident. Grady at +once put his instruments together and drove +with Rolf’s representative to Baker Street. +The unnamed agent then accompanied him +by rail to Rickmansworth. In the darkness +of the sultry night, he was conducted to his<span class="pagenum" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</span> +doom. The house of which Rolf was the +tenant was approached by a lonely lane on +the outskirts of the little town. The two +men were seen to enter by the front door, +and a labourer who was approaching at no +great distance declared that he heard a +smothered cry, followed by heavy blows, and +then a fall. His statement was not made +known until some time had elapsed, as almost +immediately after hearing these ominous +sounds, he was knocked down and stunned +by a motor-car.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile the packing-case had been +brought from Red Lion Street to Rickmansworth. +The day after the crime, it was +removed in a wagon. The wagon was seen +again later, but in the interval the packing-case +had vanished. It was found, empty, on +the following day near Northwood. Grady’s +clothes were found in a portmanteau in a +neighbouring sewer, and the portmanteau +was afterwards identified as one that Featherstone—<em>alias</em> +Rolf—had bought and taken +to his rooms in London. Finally, the naked +body of poor Grady was discovered in a +backwater of the River Colne. The head of +the unfortunate man showed cuts and wounds +in quite a dozen different places. He had +been brutally and determinedly done to +death.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</span></p> + +<p>The police now overhauled the house at +Rickmansworth, and there found other signs +of an awful struggle and a cruel crime. Futile +efforts had been made to paint out the blood-stains +on the floor.</p> + +<p>From the house, the examinations were +extended to the sheds and workshops, and +though there were signs of removal and +attempted concealment, enough remained to +show that the place was in truth designed +for the manufacture of bombs and other +murderous explosives. There were invoices, +letters, and receipts imperfectly destroyed +by fire, that showed the harmless “cement-maker” +to be a buyer of sulphuric acid, +mercury, picric acid, saltpetre, and other +ingredients of explosive compositions. These +and other facts the inquest brought to light, +partly owing to the self-importance of a +fussy coroner, who disallowed the efforts of +the police to keep back certain features of +the ghastly story. Meanwhile the murderers, +who obviously had command of ample funds, +had fled the country.</p> + +<p>Sensational journals were not slow to unfold +the tale of terror under startling headlines. +Something akin to panic seized the +country and coerced the Government into +action. The Solicitor-General, though out +of town, received earnest communications<span class="pagenum" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</span> +from ministers, and it was afterwards known +that he had framed some of the most drastic +clauses in the Bill which was forthwith introduced +in the House of Commons. This +measure obtained a Parliamentary record by +passing through both Houses in a single day. +It provided legal machinery for the suppression +of conspiracies. It was part French +and part Irish in its origin, and designed in +effect to prevent the illegal manufacture and +possession of explosives.</p> + +<p>The country, it was pointed out in Parliament, +had been lulled into a false sense of +security by the absence of dynamite outrages +for a considerable time. But not so very +far back, in a period of eleven years, there +had been no less than sixty-nine crimes and +attempted crimes by means of infernal +machines, bombs, and other engines intended +for the wholesale destruction of life and +property. No wonder there were dark and +agonised forebodings; for none could feel +assured that history was not about to repeat +that grim and blood-stained page in England’s +capital.</p> + + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</span></p> +</div> + +<h2 class="nobreak" >CHAPTER VII<br> +<small>LOVE ON THE LEAS</small></h2> + + +<p>“Thank heaven!” sighed Herrick. He tossed +a bulky brief on a side-table, and rose to his +feet. The heat was stifling in his narrow +room in Paper Buildings. Outside in the +gardens the brown grass, dry and baked, +bore witness to the long-continued drought. +London was becoming an inferno.</p> + +<p>But for a week-end, at any rate, he was +going to escape from it. The Westwoods +were at Folkestone, and within twenty minutes +the train would be carrying him sea-wards, +to clean, pure air, to a smokeless sky—and +to Aldwyth Westwood.</p> + +<p>The boy-clerk entered with two letters. +“For you, sir,” said the youth, known to +his Temple intimates as “Awthur.”</p> + +<p>“Right,” answered Herrick, thrusting them +into a pocket. “Here, take my bag—look +sharp! a hansom for Charing Cross.”</p> + +<p>“Awthur” showed himself alert, and within<span class="pagenum" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</span> +four minutes the jaded barrister was being +driven westward through the thronged and +sweltering Strand.</p> + +<p>“Poor devils, <em>they’ve</em> got to stay in town,” +he muttered. It struck him that the great +artery of London life looked strange and sad +in the afternoon glare of the summer sun; +on every face was a set look of weariness +and strain.</p> + +<p>High up on Exeter Hall, a huge placard +attracted his attention:</p> + +<p class="center big1 p1 p1b"> +<span class="smcap">On Wednesday Next!!!<br> +Meeting for Men only.<br> +Address by<br> +Father Francis.</span></p> + +<p>Father Francis was well known to him by +reputation. They had been contemporaries +at Oxford, but the “Father” was then known +as Lord Francis Purbrook, fifth son of the +Duke of Portsdown—a wild and dissipated +youth. His follies and debaucheries had +been continued in the wider world, outside +the University; until a strange and sudden +change had come to him. He simply said +that he had been converted. His old companions +sneered, and asserted that he had +turned “goody-goody.” But this transformation +of his, call it what you will, was<span class="pagenum" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</span> +obvious to all. Then he had taken Holy +Orders, and now was the priest-in-charge of +St Stephen’s mission church—a chapel in a +side street of Mayfair. His courtesy title +had been wholly abandoned, and he was +always spoken of as Father Francis.</p> + +<p>With so much of the past, Herrick, like +most Londoners, was well acquainted; but +it was not given him to foresee the tragic +scene in which the young priest was soon to +play a foremost and a fatal part. Herrick, +at the moment prosaically absorbed, was +mainly bent on catching his train in time +for a corner seat in a “smoker”; and here +in a few minutes was the station, busy and +bustling as ever. Here, too, was Henshaw +of Scotland Yard, keenly eyeing continental +arrivals from Boulogne <em>via</em> Folkestone.</p> + +<p>“A lot of foreigners,” said the barrister, +as he passed him with a nod.</p> + +<p>“And a bad lot, too,” was the detective’s +comment. There was no time for more; +late arrivals were scurrying down the platform. +Herrick rushed with the rest; he +found a seat; the guard’s whistle and extended +hand signalled the departure of the +train. They were off and away, wriggling +over the railroad network of London, until +presently the grim and hideous streets and +outskirts of the Surrey side were left behind.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</span> +The pleasant fields and woods of Kent succeeded +to scenes of sordid toil, and still more +sordid recreation. The murk and stew of +the great town, the hoot of its motors, the +hoof-hammer of its jaded horses, the dominant +note of its thousands of weary feet—all were +left behind.</p> + +<p>Within three hours the westering sun had +set. Eastward, lighthouses sent their first +flashing rays across the heaving sea. Westward, +the rose and amber of the clouds +deepened into purple. The stars came out +brighter and brighter in the darkening sky, +thousands upon thousands, and tens of +thousands—the steps of Allah’s wonderful +throne!</p> + +<p>Herrick and Aldwyth Westwood paced +slowly on the Leas. The influence of the +magical hour had stolen upon their spirits. +They spoke but little, but their hearts were +full—full of the tenderness of kindred spirits +in harmony with each other and in touch +with the infinite. For this wonderful night +seemed to reveal the infinite in all the ordered +beauty of earth and sky and sea, breathing +a message to poor humanity, whispering of +ultimate emancipation and high destiny.</p> + +<p>Later on, they came down, as needs must, +from the stars.</p> + +<p>Herrick, who had brought down important<span class="pagenum" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</span> +papers from the Temple, asked when he could +discuss them with Sir John.</p> + +<p>To his surprise, Aldwyth showed some +doubt.</p> + +<p>“Father is not quite himself,” she said +hesitatingly. “But perhaps—— Well come +in and I’ll ask him.”</p> + +<p>They walked across the grass and re-entered +the hotel. The band—of violins and +harps—was playing its final waltz, and the +guests, who were lounging here and there, +gazed with interest at the tall and comely +couple. The well-knit figure and bearing of +the young barrister won some approval; but +the critical faculty of the lady onlookers expended +itself chiefly in observing the evening +dress and general style of his companion. +Let no man expect that he will make any +particular impression when there is a woman +at his side whose costume calls for criticism, +or the sincere flattery of imitation.</p> + +<p>Aldwyth went upstairs to the suite of rooms +reserved for Sir John Westwood and herself, +and Herrick, waiting her message, turned into +the smoking-room, where only two men were +sitting, and those engaged in earnest conversation. +In the light of after events Herrick +often recalled much of what they said. It +was an open conversation in a public room. +The speakers were unknown to him. Later<span class="pagenum" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</span> +on, he learnt that one was Dr Wilson Wake, +a nerve specialist, to whose consulting rooms +in Harley Street patients crowded. The other +was a writer, whose essays in the weightier +reviews had attracted much attention.</p> + +<p>“It happened before, and it will happen +again,” the doctor was saying. “It was simply +a sequel to the ravages of bubonic plague.”</p> + +<p>“You mean the Black Death of the fourteenth +century?”</p> + +<p>“That, of course, was the popular name +of the disease. The Italians, in their more +musical language, called it ’<em>la mortalega +grande</em>’—the Great Mortality.”</p> + +<p>“But you surely don’t anticipate——?”</p> + +<p>“A similar visitation?—certainly not. We +were only speaking of the after effects; and +similar effects might, and, in my judgment +will, be produced in modern times by some +less appalling form of physical disease. The +<em>Chorea</em>, or Dancing Mania of the Middle Ages +was the outcome of the Black Death, and +the Dancing Mania itself was simply the +expression of disordered nerves.”</p> + +<p>“But, my dear sir, this is the twentieth +century.”</p> + +<p>“History always repeats itself, though +with interesting variations. My dear fellow, +the nervous system of the nation is out of +order.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</span></p> + +<p>“You ought to know.”</p> + +<p>“I do,” said the specialist, drawing at his +cigar.</p> + +<p>“But the extent of the mortality from +plague was greatly exaggerated,” protested +the other.</p> + +<p>“Of course, of course; nevertheless, in +London upwards of fifty thousand corpses +were buried in layers in a single district, and +we know the burial pits even to this day.”</p> + +<p>“And, after all, the Dancing Mania was +mainly a Continental development.”</p> + +<p>“No doubt; but scientifically it was only +a form of epilepsy, and St Vitus has had his +votaries in all countries, at all times. It was +not until the sixteenth century that the +faculty ventured to question the demon +theories of the priests. Look up Paracelsus, +my friend. His diagnosis was correct, but +his remedies were ridiculous.”</p> + +<p>“I suppose the tarantism of Italy was +only a form of the same nervous disorder?” +queried the other.</p> + +<p>“Precisely; the spider’s bite was a delusion—though, +no doubt, the Apulian Tarantula +was a <em>bona fide</em> insect. Hysteria can +always invent a spider, or a mouse. As +recently as 1787, two or three hundred girls +in a Lancashire cotton mill were seized with +violent convulsions, because one girl put a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</span> +mouse into the bosom of another girl. They +all declared that they had been treated in +the same way. The insane delusions of the +Convulsionaires in France lasted till near the +end of the eighteenth century, and of course +we have had our own Jumpers, Shakers, and +Pentecostal Dancers here in England.”</p> + +<p>“And you think we haven’t seen the last +of them?”</p> + +<p>“Nor yet the worst,” said the specialist, +rising. “Shall we finish our cigars outside?”</p> + +<p>As the two men ended their odd dialogue +and left the room, a waiter brought Herrick +a pencilled note.</p> + +<p>“<em>Father will see you.—Aldwyth.</em>”</p> + + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</span></p> +</div> + +<h2 class="nobreak" >CHAPTER VIII<br> +<small>SIR JOHN BREAKS DOWN</small></h2> + + +<p>John Westwood was the son of a solicitor, +and paternal influence gave him his first start +at the Bar. A patient, strenuous, and able +man, he missed no chance. The crest of a +political wave carried him into Parliament, +and, unlike most lawyers, he became a House +of Commons success. Successful in love, as +in forensic war and party politics, he won a +wife who was wooed at the same time by a +lover mad in his worship and passion, wholly +different in all respects from the cold and more +calculating rival, whose methods and success +the rejected lover never forgot nor forgave.</p> + +<p>Marcus White, after the episode already +chronicled, took his headlong way beyond the +ken of all his English associates. He was +heard of as having made a huge fortune in +Mexico, a country offering far more scope +for a man of such drastic methods and daring +enterprise. Westwood stayed at home and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</span> +plodded on. After his marriage, and when, +as yet, briefs were far from plentiful, he and +his wife lived in quite a quiet middle-class +way at Norwood. He came to London every +day, and took his meagre luncheon daily like +any other grubbing barrister at a stuffy +restaurant in Fleet Street. To find on his +table a brief marked ten and one was quite +a rare and gladdening event. In the general +way prices ruled considerably lower in his +chambers. But it was otherwise after he +had entered Parliament. Ten years later +there was a shuffling of parties, and John +Westwood, who had taken silk, shot into the +very bull’s-eye of political life. The prophets +said that he would reach the Woolsack; +but, meanwhile, sundry faithful if dull members +of the bar and of the party blocked the +way. The Chancellor clung to life and office +with a tenacity which upset all calculations. +The Attorney-General, too, refused to recognise +the grave complaint from which he +suffered as an equivalent to notice to quit. +Other Government appointments were, in +omnibus language, “full up,” and John Westwood, +K.C., M.P., had to be content with a +knighthood and the office of Solicitor-General. +But his income and fees amounted to some +ten thousand a year, and he was a man of +thrifty habits, and saved considerably.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</span></p> + +<p>Yet a price has to be paid by the man who +burns the candle at both ends—in Parliament +and in the Law Courts. It is the kind of +double life that kills all but the toughest, +and Sir John was far from tough. Affairs of +state were critical, and at this crisis his “sword +hung rusting on the wall,” while he was urgently +wanted at Westminster. He was still lingering +at Folkestone when delicate problems of +international law demanded all the acumen +that his brain could bring to bear. The +Prime Minister almost implored his assistance, +but, the specialist who had come down to the +Métropole to see him asserted bluntly that +it would be more than his sanity, or perhaps +his life, could stand if yet awhile he plunged +back into the quagmire of jurisprudence or +the sea of party strife.</p> + +<p>Such was the man who paced with restless +steps the room of the hotel that summer +night. On the table were despatch boxes, +blue books, blue draft papers, and bulky +volumes that had been sent down from London. +These were his tools, and he could +not handle them! Aldwyth, his only child, +and the one being in the world for whom his +heart beat with affection, sat by the window +anxiously watching him. Her love and tenderness, +as she was beginning to realise, were +powerless to assuage his mental suffering.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</span></p> + +<p>Alone, we come into the world; alone, we +tread the winepress of life; alone, we leave +it by the darkened door.</p> + +<p>Herrick, as he entered, was painfully struck +with the changed appearance of his chief. +His restless movements, lined cheeks, and +twitching facial muscles, told a saddening +tale.</p> + +<p>“It’s no good,” said Sir John, after the +first few words, “I can’t work, I can’t think; +worse than all, I can’t sleep. I ought to +resign.”</p> + +<p>“Father!” exclaimed Aldwyth, appealingly. +Herrick was silent. What could he +say? It relieved him when, after a few +moments of silence, the Solicitor-General +drew a long breath and showed a greater +self-command.</p> + +<p>“By the way,” he said suddenly, “I’ve +had a threatening letter. I don’t suppose,” +he added, “that any one need feel alarmed.” +It was obvious that he regretted having said +so much before his daughter.</p> + +<p>“The cowards!” she cried indignantly; +“the cowards!”</p> + +<p>“What did you do with it?” asked the +younger man.</p> + +<p>“Burnt it,” was the terse reply.</p> + +<p>“Wasn’t it a pity to destroy the evidence +of handwriting?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</span></p> + +<p>“There was no handwriting; it was typed.”</p> + +<p>“And no signature?”</p> + +<p>“Only a sign; the embossed outline of a +metal disc.”</p> + +<p>“Curious,” said Herrick.</p> + +<p>“But hardly a curiosity,” was Sir John’s +comment. “I understand that various members +of the Government have been favoured +in the same way, besides all the judges of the +King’s Bench Division, and every magistrate +in London.”</p> + +<p>“Then there’s no special threat so far as +you’re concerned, father?” said Aldwyth, +watching him uneasily.</p> + +<p>“Perhaps not,” said Sir John, speaking +slowly, doubtfully.</p> + +<p>“I see you have some further information,” +said Herrick.</p> + +<p>“Plenty of information, and nothing that +would stand a moment’s test according to +the laws of evidence.”</p> + +<p>“And yet there seems to be an attempt at +wholesale intimidation. Surely the Government—the +Home Secretary——”</p> + +<p>“The Home Secretary,” retorted Westwood +angrily, “is not the man for times like +these. England is face to face with an organised +conspiracy. This so-called League, which +grows in numbers and power every day, is +really an army of anarchy recruited from the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</span> +criminal classes at home and abroad. It seeks +to paralyse the penal law of England. If the +State does not crush it, it will overthrow the +State. This gang of miscreants, with its +weapons of terrorism and bribery——”</p> + +<p>“Bribery!” exclaimed Herrick, astonished.</p> + +<p>“Yes; bribery on a colossal scale, and +expended mainly in corrupting the police, +by whom alone the public can be safeguarded; +and, mark you this, bribery doesn’t stop so +low as that. The wire-pullers know their +men—threats for some, and money for others; +a ten-pound note for a police sergeant, and +so upwards on a sliding scale, until the maximum +may reach to thousands.”</p> + +<p>Herrick and Aldwyth listened with increased +amazement.</p> + +<p>“I know it; I have proofs,” Sir John +continued.</p> + +<p>“At any rate,” interposed Herrick, “the +Home Secretary has issued a circular to every +local authority offering a hundred pounds’ +reward to any person who makes known the +illegal manufacture of explosives.”</p> + +<p>“Useless!” said Westwood, throwing up +his hands. “Police officers are excluded +from the offer; they are the only people who +could give such information. After the case +at Rickmansworth, even if there are traitors +in the League, who is likely to seal his own<span class="pagenum" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</span> +doom as Grady did? Besides, where the +Home Office would pay a hundred pounds for +betrayal, the men behind the metal disc +would pay five hundred pounds for complicity +and concealment.”</p> + +<p>“The public ought to demand the enforcement +of the new Act,” argued Herrick +hotly.</p> + +<p>“The public don’t understand how to +enforce anything; they leave the weapons +of agitation in the hands of the lawless, and +trust to the executive for the protection of +life and property; while the executive——” +He shrugged his shoulders, and for a moment +stood moodily staring at the wall. “The +Government hope the crisis will be averted,” +he resumed. “It needed the Phœnix Park +murders to bring the Prevention of Crimes +Act into force in Ireland. What price in +horror and bloodshed will have to be paid +in London before this campaign of outrage +and dynamite is brought to an end, God only +knows. I tell you, Herrick, that to pause +or parley while these men perfect their plans +is madness, and a betrayal of the nation!” +He spoke with force and vehemence. For a +moment his growing weakness had been +shaken off. Carried away by his subject and +his convictions, his voice and gestures gave +some indication of the intellectual force that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</span> +such a man could bring to bear in forensic +argument and in debate.</p> + +<p>Then, suddenly, there was a swift and +shocking change in Westwood’s manner and +appearance. His rushing thoughts and excited +utterance had produced a terrible reaction. +Aldwyth and Herrick were at his +side in a moment. They led him to a chair. +He sat there, staring, with ghastly cheeks and +twitching muscles, manifestly unable to control +the convulsive motions of his lower limbs, +or the movement of the hands, which kept +rising and falling with involuntary gesticulations. +Herrick, horror-struck, recalled the +conversation he had overheard in the smoking-room +below.</p> + + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</span></p> +</div> + +<h2 class="nobreak" >CHAPTER IX<br> +<small>FATHER FRANCIS AT FOLKESTONE</small></h2> + + +<p>When Herrick awoke on the following morning, +after a night of restlessness and troubled +dreams, the summer sunshine seemed to be +almost mocking in its brilliancy. For, in +spite of the gladness of Nature, the times were +out of joint. There was something wrong +with life. With a sigh of depression, as he +recalled the occurrences of the previous night, +he set about facing the problems of the day—his +own problems and Aldwyth Westwood’s +in particular.</p> + +<p>His coat lay over the back of a chair, and +two unopened letters had slipped from a +pocket to the floor. They were those he had +received from the alert “Awthur” in the +Temple, left unopened in the hurry of his +departure from town, and until now entirely +forgotten. He picked them up with no great +interest. He knew from the envelope what +one would be about. It was a regimental<span class="pagenum" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</span> +notice from the headquarters of the “Devil’s +Own” in Lincoln’s Inn. Until lately he had +been a keen volunteer officer, but the systematic +snubs administered by the War Office +to the citizen soldiery had greatly discouraged +him and a great many others. He opened +the other letter mechanically and with a +morning yawn. But what he read—typewritten +on half a sheet of thin quarto paper—instantly +fixed his attention. He stood up, +stared at the words, and read them again:</p> + +<p>“<em>Give up the law (if you value your skin). +It will soon be a dangerous trade.</em>”</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp15" id="i_086" style="max-width: 18.75em;"> + <img class="w100 p1 p1b" src="images/i_086.jpg" alt="ilop86" title="p86ilo"> +</figure> + +<p>There was no date. The impression, which +took the place of a signature, corresponded +with that produced by the familiar seals of +public companies. It was in the form of a +disc, and had the outline of a spider in the +centre.</p> + +<p>Was this some silly practical joke, or could +it be a genuine and malignant threat? But +for what Sir John Westwood had told him +on the previous evening, he would have concluded<span class="pagenum" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</span> +unhesitatingly in favour of the first +theory. But now he pondered.</p> + +<p>After a solitary breakfast in the coffee-room, +and pondering still, he waited about the hotel, +hoping to see Aldwyth, but she was unable +to leave her father’s side. When he came out +on to the Leas, the Folkestone Church Parade +had already begun. Here, among the crowd +in the sunshine, a serious reading of the +threatening letter seemed impossible.</p> + +<p>The seaside world was decked with light +as with a garment, and the butterflies of +fashion fluttered their laces and laughed at +the little jokes of the wearers of Panama +hats as if life could hold nothing more serious +than the choice of a graceful “confection,” +and the art of wearing it with good effect. +At the west end of the Leas there was nothing +suggestive of the seamy side of life, nothing +to hint at the possibility of social earthquake. +He wondered vaguely, as he walked eastward +with hands clasped behind him, whether in +olden time the good people who then looked +out upon that sparkling sea had truly realised +the danger, horror, and humiliation of the +threatened invasion of a powerful enemy of +England. It struck him that the British +race, which has “worried through” so many +awkward crises, obstinately cherished the +conviction that, as a nation, it bore a charmed<span class="pagenum" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</span> +life; that the slings and arrows of outrageous +fortune could never bring it to the proud foot +of a conqueror. A dangerous faith! For +here on this very coast, much less than two +hundred years ago, invasion had been imminent. +The French were mustered at Dunkirk, +Calais, and Boulogne. The Pretender’s +youngest son was with them, and there was +an Irish Brigade to aid the enterprise. The +English, too, had furnished a contingent of +traitors to assist the enemy, for the Folkestone +smugglers had sold themselves to act as pilots +for the invading force. But for the vigilance +of that tough old sailor, Admiral Vernon, +invasion would have become an accomplished +fact. By his order, the miserable fleet, placed +at his disposal by a blundering government, +patrolled the Channel unceasingly. Warning +beacons blazed along the coast from Beachy +Head to the South Foreland. There was one +even on Hurricane House, as the sailors +styled the parish church of Folkestone—the +church which Herrick was passing at the very +moment of recalling those far-off troubled +times.</p> + +<p>But to-day, in the old town as in the new, +people knew or cared for none of these things, +nor even dreamed of the possibility of any +untoward events that might make Folkestone +an ineligible resort for week-end trippers. On<span class="pagenum" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</span> +every side ’Arry and ’Arriet rejoiced, and were +glad in the glorious weather. The ’Arry collars +and shoes were entirely and manifestly satisfactory +to their wearers; and the blouses of +’Arriet and her sisters, cousins, and aunts, +blazed violently in the dazzling sunshine. +The yachting caps the maidens wore were all +that unbecomingness could possibly demand, +and the hats of the mothers and aunts fully +exemplified that marked unsuitability for +which the British female of mature years is +so renowned.</p> + +<p>Herrick, as he made his way through the +cheerful and perspiring throng, decided that, +as an advocate, he could make out a strong +case for the survival of our ancient sumptuary +laws.</p> + +<p>Though Folkestone, west and east, already +was pretty full, here were other visitors, +within a stone’s-throw of the shores that +welcome such hosts of undesirables from +foreign lands. One of the much advertised +steamers of the South-Eastern line was rapidly +nearing the harbour with a crowded human +cargo. Of late years the Boulogne and +Folkestone route had increased in favour. +It was not surprising, for it made the journey +between Paris and London shorter by twenty-eight +miles than the Calais-Dover line.</p> + +<p>Herrick, who knew something of the signals<span class="pagenum" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</span> +adopted on these boats, was aware that each +ball on the foremast represented a hundred +passengers; a ball on the mainmast vouched +for another twenty; a flag on the foremast +stood for fifty passengers; a ball at the peak +over the ensign represented ten. It was plain +to him that the <em>Queen of the South</em>, whose +figurehead gleamed in its brand-new gilt +above the dancing wavelets, was as full as +the Board of Trade would allow—and perhaps +a little fuller. While the steamer was +being berthed, he stood upon the long platform +and watched the passengers as they +came ashore. The number of foreigners was +quite astonishing. Swarthy, dark-haired, ill-favoured +fellows, most of them, they hurried +to the London train already in waiting, while +there were a few whom the after-stress of +what Thackeray called the “marine malady” +drove in eager search of refreshment.</p> + +<p>What, however, struck Herrick even more +forcibly, and, indeed, with something akin +to shock, was the fact that each one of those +ill-favoured visitors wore upon his breast a +metal disc. Yet more amazing, the disc—unless +his eyes deceived him—resembled the +impression on the threatening letter he had +carefully placed inside his pocket-book only +an hour or two ago.</p> + +<p>While this staggering circumstance held<span class="pagenum" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</span> +him wondering, the through passengers entrained; +the warning whistle sounded, and +they were off. A man, who had landed in +leisurely fashion from the boat, stood near +him, also watching the departing train. Presently +he turned. Their eyes met, and in them +came a look of recognition. Somewhere, +Herrick felt assured, he had seen that face +before—but where? The man passed him, +a slight smile on his lips, and entered a well-appointed +motor-car. Then, in an instant, +conviction flashed on Herrick’s mind. It +was the face that had affected him so strangely +at the Central Criminal Court, when he stood +up as Counsel for the Crown in the memorable +case that failed!</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>That evening, in the ancient parish church, +so beautifully restored, Aldwyth and her +lover stood side by side. Sonorous and +impressive, organ, choir, and congregation +together voiced a hymn of faith:</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> +<p>“Beneath the shadow of Thy Throne<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Thy Saints have dwelt secure;</span><br> +Sufficient is Thine Arm alone<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And our defence is sure.”</span></p> +</div> +</div> + +<p>The sadness of fleeting life found deep +expression towards the end:</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</span></p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> +<p>“Time like an ever-rolling stream,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Bears all its sons away;</span><br> +They fly forgotten, as a dream<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Dies at the opening day.”</span></p> +</div> +</div> + +<p>Then, with gathering strength, came again +the cry for help and hope:</p> + +<p> +“O God, our Help in ages past,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Our Hope for years to come,</span><br> +Be Thou our guard while troubles last,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And our eternal home.”</span><br> +</p> + +<p>And all the people said “Amen.”</p> + +<p>A rustle of expectancy, a settling movement, +and, over the heads of the sitting congregation, +Herrick and his companion could +see the preacher. They exchanged quick +glances of pleased surprise. The tall priest +looking down with wistful eyes upon the +many faces was Father Francis.</p> + +<p>There were others in the church besides +themselves who, in the shadowed after-time, +recalled the preacher’s look and words that +night.</p> + +<p>In this narrative, though Father Francis +has an honoured place, only the gist of what +he said need be recorded.</p> + +<p>“<em>Watchman, what of the night?</em>” There were +those, he said—having given out the text—who +saw a dark night gathering over England. +The growth of luxury and self-indulgence,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</span> +the follies of the rich, the miseries of the poor, +the insatiable thirst for pleasure and excitement, +the struggle between capital and labour, +and the faltering of national faith in the +eternal verities—these converging causes were +shaping the materials for a great catastrophe. +If righteousness exalted a nation, assuredly +unrighteousness would lay it in the dust. In +the book of this same prophet Isaiah it was +written: “For the nation and kingdom that +will not serve Thee shall perish; yea, those +nations shall be utterly wasted.”</p> + +<p>Again and again such prophecies had been +fulfilled. The once mighty empires of the +East, honeycombed with sensuality and corruption, +had long since fallen into decay. +The Roman eagle, beneath which the whole +world had cowered in awe, no longer soared +aloft; Carthage had fallen; Athens and +Alexandria, and many another ancient capital +of arms or learning, had lost their power and +proud pre-eminence. The ruins of Nineveh +lay buried beneath the sands and dust of +centuries; Babylon the mighty, with its idols +of silver and gold, had been laid low. “Come +down and sit in the dust, O virgin daughter +of Babylon, sit on the ground; there is no +throne, O daughter of the Chaldeans; for +thou shalt no more be called young and +delicate. Take the millstones and grind meal.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</span> +Sit thou silent, and get thee into darkness +... for thou shalt no more be called the +lady of kingdoms.”</p> + +<p>The women of old had not differed greatly +from the women of to-day, said the preacher, +looking down upon the many women who +listened to his words. The prophet had +marked their ways; they walked with +stretched forth necks and wanton eyes. They +were haughty in the bravery of their tinkling +ornaments, their chains and their bracelets, +the changeable suits of apparel, the mantles, +the wimples, and the crisping pins, the fine +linen, the hoods, and the veils. Wherein, he +asked, did those women of old differ in their +vanity and arrogance from the women of +that great modern Babylon which they all +knew so well—the centre and capital of the +stupendous empire on which the sun never +set?</p> + +<p>There would yet, he believed, be a further +fulfilment of that stern prophecy of the +eastern seer, and in that dark and terrible +time what part would be played by the +women of England—the women of London? +They were destined to faint and fail! The +luxurious, jewel-decked women of ease and +fashion would be swept like rotten leaves +before the storm! Only a woman such as +Solomon described in the last chapter of the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</span> +Book of Proverbs could ever fulfil the high +destiny of her sex, whether in times of peace +or in times of trouble. “Who can find a +virtuous woman? for her price is far above +rubies ... strength and honour are her +clothing, and she shall rejoice in time to come, +... she openeth her mouth with wisdom, +and in her tongue is the law of kindness.... +Her children arise up and call her blessed; +her husband also, and he praiseth her.... +Many daughters have done virtuously, but +thou excellest them all. Favour is deceitful +and beauty is vain; but a woman that +feareth the Lord, she shall be praised.” You +and I, said Father Francis, may never meet +in this church again, but in this solemn +evening hour, in this still and wonderful +summer night, forget not the storms which +sometimes beat upon this ancient building, +and remember, too, the storms of life, the +terror and distress of nations. Whither shall +we flee in that dread hour? There is and +can ever be but one refuge—the Rock of +Ages, with its calm, cool shadow in a weary +land; its strength and steadfastness amid +the tempestuous passions of the human race. +At the last, he said, in solemn tones, pointing +to the “Tree of Jesse” in the north transept +of the church, all nations and peoples of the +earth would be brought to see that in Him<span class="pagenum" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</span> +of whom the prophets and the angels testified, +and in Him alone, was hope, salvation, and +tranquillity. “I am the root and offspring +of Jesse, and the bright and morning Star.”</p> + +<p>For a moment the preacher paused. Suddenly, +with a thrilling intonation, he repeated +the question of his text—” <em>Watchman, what +of the night?</em>” Then, with hand pointing +eastward—an action dramatic but not theatrical—he +gave the prophet’s answer in +triumphant tones—” <em>The watchman saith, The +morning cometh.</em>”</p> + + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</span></p> +</div> + +<h2 class="nobreak" >CHAPTER X<br> +<small>MARCUS WHITE RETURNS</small></h2> + + +<p>The usual Monday morning movements had +kept the hotel in a bustle for some little time, +and Herrick’s cab was waiting at the door. +There was a motor-car waiting also, and one +that the barrister promptly recognised. An +impulse led him to return from the hotel +steps to the office in the vestibule. Here a +lady-clerk with frizzy hair was bending her +eyes and her glasses over the visitors’ register. +She looked up as he asked his question: Oh +yes, she knew; the car belonged to Mr +Marcus White, the rich gentleman from +Mexico.</p> + +<p>Suddenly the girl turned scarlet, as she +saw that some one was standing by Herrick’s +side. “Oh, I beg pardon,” she said confusedly.</p> + +<p>“Perhaps you are interested in motors?” +The enquiry was addressed to Herrick, and +the speaker was the man of the New Bailey,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</span> +the man who had landed at the harbour on +the previous morning. The sarcastic intonation, +the half contemptuous look, and the +quiet way in which the stranger had drawn +near, all served to cause embarrassment.</p> + +<p>Herrick, angry with himself, blurted out a +“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“If you would like to test the speed of +mine,” said White, nodding towards the hotel +entrance, “I could perhaps give you an +opportunity. I return to town to-night.”</p> + +<p>“Thanks, but I return this morning,” +answered Herrick, recovering his self-possession.</p> + +<p>“Ah! you return to the pursuit of your +interesting profession!”</p> + +<p>“I hope yet to render some service to the +cause of law and order,” said Herrick, thinking +of a certain letter.</p> + +<p>“You mean to make hay while the sun +shines. Perhaps you are wise.”</p> + +<p>“Plenty of sunshine at present.”</p> + +<p>“Yes; but it won’t last,” was the reflective +retort.</p> + +<p>“Prophecy is dangerous.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, but not so dangerous as the law.”</p> + +<p>“You mean to the clients?”</p> + +<p>“On the contrary, I was thinking of the +lawyers.”</p> + +<p>“I’m afraid I can’t stop to argue that.”<span class="pagenum" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</span> +The younger man lifted his hat—very slightly. +Marcus White raised his—with a bow and +gesture of such exaggerated respect as almost +to constitute an insult. He stood for a +moment watching the departure of the other, +then turned his gaze upon the puzzled clerk.</p> + +<p>“Sir John Westwood is staying here?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir.”</p> + +<p>“Will you send some one up with my +card?”</p> + +<p>“I am afraid——,” began the girl.</p> + +<p>“You will be good enough to send up this +card.”</p> + +<p>She took the card nervously, but mustered +courage for another effort to withstand this +masterful man. “Sir John Westwood is ill, +sir.”</p> + +<p>“We are old—acquaintances.”</p> + +<p>“I’m afraid he can’t see you.”</p> + +<p>“I shall be waiting here for an answer.”</p> + +<p>He strolled slowly through the vestibule, +with a calm but patient air, which seemed +to imply that to him it was the most natural +assumption in the world that his behests +should be complied with.</p> + +<p>Five minutes later Marcus White was +ushered into a handsome room on the first +floor, and at the same time Aldwyth entered +by another doorway. The manifest and immediate +effect produced in him by her appearance<span class="pagenum" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</span> +bewildered her. The dark-skinned +face of the visitor paled, his eyes narrowed, +and gazing at her face intently, he grasped +the back of a chair as if for support. They +stood and gazed in silence. Then, mastering +his emotion, White spoke, as if by way of +explanation:</p> + +<p>“It was some resemblance,” he said; “I +was hardly prepared, and it startled me.”</p> + +<p>“You mean a resemblance to my father?”</p> + +<p>“No, to your mother.”</p> + +<p>“You knew my mother?” She looked +at him, wonderingly.</p> + +<p>There was something in his face and bearing +which made her look and look again. +Lately she had been reading the life-history +of Balzac, and fragmentary accounts of his +appearance, and also of that of Armand de +Montriveau—in whom the great romancist +reproduced some of his own characteristics—came +swiftly to her mind, as she watched the +face of Marcus White. “He seemed to have +reached some crisis in his life, but all took +place within his own breast, and he confided +nothing to the world without.... He was +of medium height, broad in the chest, and +muscular as a lion. When he walked, his +carriage, his step, his least gesture, bespoke +a consciousness of power which was imposing; +there was something even despotic about it.”<span class="pagenum" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</span> +Then, again, another passage: “The black +hair, shining and radiant, receding from the +temple in bright waves ... the eyes steeped +in a golden penumbra with tawny eyeballs +... send out a glance of astonishing acuteness.”</p> + +<p>“You knew my mother?” she repeated +quietly.</p> + +<p>The question was not answered. White +had turned his eyes towards the window and +seemed to be gazing at a distant sail.</p> + +<p>“Of course you expected to see my father,” +Aldwyth began, after an awkward pause. “I +am sorry it is impossible. But if there is +anything that I can tell him——”</p> + +<p>He turned his eyes upon her swiftly. “Miss +Westwood, there are some things that must +be discussed between men alone.”</p> + +<p>“My father is ill. So, unfortunately——”</p> + +<p>“Is he really ill?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t understand you,” she said stiffly.</p> + +<p>“I beg your pardon, but, as I daresay you +know, there are such things as legal fictions, +political fictions, illnesses of expediency.”</p> + +<p>“Is it on political business that you are +here?”</p> + +<p>“In a sense, yes.”</p> + +<p>“The doctor has given the most positive +orders that my father is to have complete rest +from every sort of worry and anxiety.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</span></p> + +<p>“Desirable, but impossible. Then he does +not know that I am here?”</p> + +<p>“No,” coldly.</p> + +<p>“I should say that there is only one way +in which your father can make sure of carrying +out the doctor’s orders.” She looked at +him with gathering resentment, but he continued +calmly: “He would do well to throw +up the appointment he holds under the +Crown”—she listened, amazed; but she +was obliged to listen—” and resign his seat +in Parliament.”</p> + +<p>Her face flushed angrily.</p> + +<p>“He must also abandon his profession.”</p> + +<p>“Must!” she repeated, indignantly and +wonderingly.</p> + +<p>“I can assure you I am giving you excellent +advice.”</p> + +<p>“We are not asking for advice.”</p> + +<p>“There are reasons which lead me to +volunteer it.”</p> + +<p>“My father has been threatened by some +cowardly writer of anonymous letters,” she +said impulsively, “but the police will soon +stop that.”</p> + +<p>His smile checked her. “Ah, the police,” +he said quietly. “But of course Sir John +Westwood is not afraid?”</p> + +<p>There was an implication in his words, a +subtle intonation, that stung her to the quick.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</span> +She moved across the room with outstretched +hand, to touch the bell.</p> + +<p>“One moment,” he interposed.</p> + +<p>“My time is not my own to-day,” said +Aldwyth.</p> + +<p>“You think me brutal and presumptuous?”</p> + +<p>“Extremely presumptuous.”</p> + +<p>“It is necessary for Sir John Westwood to +be warned. He shall have a fair chance.”</p> + +<p>“What you say is quite unaccountable to +me,” she answered, and looked at him again. +It flashed upon her that only madness could +be the explanation of this extraordinary +conversation. And yet the man was manifestly +calm and resolute.</p> + +<p>“As to the time of warning him——” he +continued.</p> + +<p>“Of what?”</p> + +<p>“Of the necessity for doing what I have +suggested. As to the time of telling Sir John +Westwood what I have said this morning, +something may be left to your discretion.”</p> + +<p>“You are very kind!” with scornful +emphasis.</p> + +<p>“I don’t claim to be kind, but I am candid, +and I think that when, at your discretion, +you tell your father of this interview, he will +see the futility of hurling himself against the +rocks.”</p> + +<p>“What rocks?” she demanded.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</span></p> + +<p>“He will discover in due time, if he does +not know already.”</p> + +<p>She rang the bell, and walked towards the +window.</p> + +<p>“I am sorry,” she heard him add. +There was a short pause. “I am sorry +for <em>you</em>.”</p> + +<p>She turned her head, with an angry retort +upon her lips; but the door was closing, +and she found herself alone.</p> + + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</span></p> +</div> + +<h2 class="nobreak" >CHAPTER XI<br> +<small>THE SIGN OF THE SPIDER</small></h2> + + +<p>The London season languished. Even the +cult of the great god Pleasure found few +genuinely zealous votaries. Trade, said the +managers of the big West-end drapery establishments, +had never been so bad. Manifestly +there was something radically wrong +when crowds of women-folk no longer blocked +the pavement in front of Simon Robertson’s +great plate-glass windows. The king lay ill +at Windsor Castle, and such social functions +as might ordinarily have counted on the +presence of royalty roused but little interest. +Arid, parching days, and sultry, suffocating +nights, made ball-rooms and places of entertainment +almost unendurable. The booking-offices +of the theatres told a convincing tale +of bad business, and the art of advertisement +in manifold forms, so well understood by +stars of the stage and actor-managers (and +so zealously promoted by the writers of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</span> +dramatic gossip in the papers) took forms +which suggested the desperation of despair. +In the world of music it was just the same. +People yawned or sighed wearily when their +eyes met the puff preliminary concerning the +latest freak in musical precocity. Even the +emotional women who usually worshipped +as near as might be the bushy-haired violinists +exploited by concert agencies, fanned +themselves languidly and stayed at home. +In the city there was but little difference +in the look of things. Men appeared to be +busy, but their seeming energy was largely +due to the mere habit of hurry, acquired +through the influence of surroundings. Every +morning, as usual, the swarm of stockbrokers, +dealers, and hangers-on of the House, came +bustling out of the stations at Liverpool Street, +Broad Street, and Cannon Street. Between +nine-thirty and ten-thirty the accustomed +crowds might be seen hurrying over London +Bridge. But when the brokers reached the +Stock Exchange there was next to nothing +to do. American rails refused to lend themselves +to any sort of manipulated excitement, +and in the mining market, shares were thrown +about at rubbish prices, or could not be made +to change hands at all. The financial journals +still came out, but their advertisement +pages lacked those big announcements of new<span class="pagenum" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</span> +issues from which their profits were mainly +derived. They eked out a precarious existence +by publishing carefully edited reports +of company meetings at so much per column, +supplying copies at special rates for transmission +to confiding shareholders. The daily +columns of market prices became shorter and +shorter, for, in such times, the smaller companies +could not pay to have their dead or +dying stock quoted as if it still possessed the +elements of vital movement.</p> + +<p>Of course, the galvanic efforts of the “great +dailies” still continued; but the latest attempt +of the <em>Times</em> to introduce a new and +important series of instructive works on +almost give-away terms into the homes of +the public (including a beautiful bookcase in +fumed oak) met with practically no response +at all.</p> + +<p>But the papers, with editorial finger on +the pulse of London, now took up a theme +to which increasing space was devoted day +by day. The leading journal showed that +it still knew how to thunder. Its latest +warnings, its most booming utterances, were +directed against the growing power and +audacity of the Leaguers of London. It +told the nation plainly what had been hinted +at before in the <em>Detector</em>—in effect, that there +was a great conspiracy on foot, and that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</span> +unless the Governmental powers bestirred +themselves, the safety of the capital, if not +of the whole nation, would be imperilled.</p> + +<p>This conspiracy, it was stated, had ramifications +and objects far more dangerous than +those that had been exposed in the famous +series of articles on “Parnellism and Crime.”</p> + +<p>Tudor Street and Carmelite Buildings were +not to be outdone by Printing House Square +or Fleet Street. The League figured constantly +in the bold headlines and contents +bills of the halfpenny journals, and one of +them—the <em>Epoch</em>—whose prosperity was not +so great as was commonly supposed, bent +on a bid for fame, now boldly alleged that +the head centre of the mysterious League +was none other than the Anglo-Mexican +millionaire, Marcus White. The result was +looked for with anxiety and interest. When +it was known, the devout believers in the +disinterestedness of the <em>Epoch</em> received something +of a shock; for one morning it was +announced that the paper had changed +hands, and the journal which so recently had +denounced the Leaguers of London and all +their works, was now the accredited organ +of the League, and the champion of its objects. +There was something sinister and cynical in +the transaction.</p> + +<p>The price paid for the <em>Epoch</em>, its goodwill,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</span> +its plant, its printing houses and stock, was +said to be enormous, but in its sale as a commercial +property the commercial instinct +was by no means eliminated. It became at +once a powerful collecting agency for the +League. A coupon-form, with the imprint +of the spider-disc, appeared in every copy, +and it was intimated that those readers who +subscribed a stated sum to the funds of the +League, would have their names and addresses +carefully registered, thereby securing immunity +from further applications for financial +support. In effect, such subscribers would +obtain the protection of the League itself, +in case of public disturbance, or that risk to +life and property which, according to the +contemporaries of the <em>Epoch</em>, the police of +London were not in sufficient strength to avert.</p> + +<p>Coupons, with names and addresses, and +remittances often largely exceeding the minimum +amount invited, now poured into the +offices of the <em>Epoch</em> by every post. The +receipt sent in every case was a metal disc, +which now met the eye of astonished Londoners +in every street, railway carriage, omnibus, +tram-car, and place of public resort. It was +worn prominently on the left breast by an +ever-increasing multitude, men and women, +and even by children, belonging to all ranks +of life.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</span></p> + +<p>Lists of the disc-holders were published in +batches in the <em>Epoch</em> from day to day, and +were read with extraordinary and ever-growing +eagerness. In vain the <em>Times</em> and +other sober journals denounced the folly and +danger which these ever-lengthening lists +exemplified.</p> + +<p>It was of no use to declare that people of +high character and good position, were blindly, +even madly, allying themselves with the +scum of London and the off-scourings of the +Continent; that their action would infallibly +paralyse their only reliable protectors, and +promote the cause of social disruption by +giving the League the semblance of respectability. +There was nothing to show, said the +leader-writer, that this so-called Emigration +League took any practical steps to give effect +to its ostensible programme. On the contrary, +there was ample evidence that it +organised immigration of anarchists and miscreants +of all sorts into England. Never +before had the foreign element been so much +in evidence in London. The tardy and much +vaunted legislation against the influx of aliens +had proved little better than a fiasco. Foreigners +still swarmed to Grimsby, Hull, Newhaven, +Southampton, and Harwich, though +ineffectual steps were taken to check the influx +at those ports; while no similar machinery<span class="pagenum" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</span> +had been fairly tried at Dover and at Folkestone. +Aliens were everywhere, not only on +English ground, but also on British ships. +In vessels belonging to the port of Cardiff +alone, the crews were foreigners in the proportion +of fifty per cent. Thus the mercantile +marine, which should be the great feeder +of the Royal Navy—our first line of defence +against Continental enemies—was become an +actual source of danger, instead of strength, +to the nation.</p> + +<p>But warnings fell on deaf or indifferent +ears. Personal safety had become the dominant +idea. Panic was in the air, and the +purchase, for such in truth it was, of the little +metal disc, was now widely regarded as the +only means of securing a magnet by which +the alarmed population could hope to steer +clear of the vortex towards which the tides +of life were tending.</p> + +<p>The <em>Daily Telephone</em>, in desperation, started +a correspondence under the title: <span class="smcap">Are we +Afraid?</span> Letters from all sorts and conditions +of people descended like a postal +avalanche upon the editorial offices; and +while the selected correspondence was published +from day to day, a series of special +articles dealt with Crazes of the Past—Law +and his Mississippi Scheme; Blunt and the +South Sea Bubble; the Jabez Balfour fiasco;<span class="pagenum" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</span> +the Whitaker Wright boom, with many other +examples of chicanery, folly, and consequent +disaster, receiving elaborate notice. The +moral was illustrated, the application was +solemnly rubbed in; but all to little purpose. +The sale of the metal disc still increased by +leaps and bounds. Inborn inclination to +abbreviate asserted itself, in accordance with +abundant precedent, and one person would +ask another: “Are you a Spider?” and the +answer would be, “Yes,” “No,” or “I mean +to be.” Thus the League, though having, it +was believed, many inner circles or subdivisions, +became sectionised into two great +classes—the Leaguers proper (or improper) +unemployed, unemployable, and hosts of discharged +prisoners; and those others—the +respectable “spiders,” holders of the metal +disc as a species of insurance against the +terrorism and depredation which were expected +from the original Leaguers.</p> + +<p>What, precisely, the “Spider” meant was +the subject of much controversy. But what +purported to be an explanation was given +in one of the leading articles in the <em>Standard</em>; +a totally different theory being put forward +with equal prominence in the <em>Daily Chronicle</em>, +in an article headed, “The Mystery of the +Metal Disc.” At about the same time, in +the <em>Morning Post</em>, the pen of a well-known<span class="pagenum" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</span> +author and journalist, whose versatile talents +were constantly employed in surveying the +world from St Andrews to the Antipodes, +airily instructed the public concerning the +Real Significance of the “Spider.” The +writer, being of that nation which an English +writer has declared “unspeakable,” naturally +enough commenced with an allusion to the +famous spider of a famous king of Scotland. +He pointed out, however, that that particular +spider was not of Scottish origin, because the +insect really appeared to Robert Bruce in +the little island of Rathlin, which is off the +coast of Ireland. The writer then went on +to treat of the spider at Sans Souci, which +fell into the cup of chocolate prepared for +Frederick the Great, whose life it was instrumental +in saving. From Sans Souci he passed +lightly to Mecca, and told of the spider that +spun the web that hid Mahomet from his +enemies. From that to the murder of Sir +Thomas Overbury was only a step, and the +theory of poison made from spiders’ bodies +was aptly illustrated by a quotation from +the <em>Winter’s Tale</em>. More pertinent, perhaps, +was the reference to the old wives’ fable, +which held that certain physical ills might +be averted by wearing a spider in a nutshell +round the neck. Finally, the versatile contributor +raked in the legend connected with<span class="pagenum" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</span> +the “Shambles” shoal off Portland, at the +bottom of which, according to tradition, are +the wrecks of many ships seized and dragged +down in far-off times by the giant spider, +Kraken.</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> +<p>“Below the thunders of the upper deep;<br> +Far, far beneath in the abysmal sea,<br> +His ancient, dreamless, uninvaded sleep<br> +The Kraken sleepeth.”</p> +</div> +</div> + +<p>There to remain—</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> +<p>“Until the latter fire shall heat the deep;<br> +Then once by man and angels to be seen,<br> +In roaring he shall rise, and on the surface die.”</p> +</div> +</div> + +<p>Such articles, perhaps, were calculated to +spread, rather than restrict the general feeling +of uneasiness. They served to fix the +public mind upon what was already sufficiently +in evidence, and by suggesting elements +of the uncanny and occult, promoted +the hysteric tendencies which were +becoming so distressingly conspicuous among +the people.</p> + + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</span></p> +</div> + +<h2 class="nobreak" >CHAPTER XII<br> +<small>THE “EPOCH” RUNS AMOK</small></h2> + + +<p>In those never-forgettable summer weeks in +the mammoth city the converted <em>Epoch</em> +published a series of denunciatory articles +without parallel in the history of the modern +press. The <em>Epoch</em> was now an organ of +opinion, indeed, but not of opinion made to +order, or governed by the exigencies of +political party. Its independence was a fact, +and not a polite fiction. It dealt with men +as men and as members of specialised professions. +It ranked politics as one of the +professions, and not the most honourable, and +it tarred the “ins” and the “outs” with +one and the same prickly brush. The new +departure made it clear that the freedom +of the press, as hitherto understood, was itself +a mere fiction.</p> + +<p>In law the newspaper had no greater +freedom than the individual critic. Political +opponents might, indeed, be attacked and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</span> +misrepresented with an impunity begotten +of necessity, and the pot-and-kettle system, +inherited from the journalistic organs of +Eatanswill; but beyond that, the only freedom +consisted in the right to publish what a +jury of twelve tradesmen might not consider +libellous. Journalism, in fact, was analogous +to advocacy. The pot called the kettle +black, and the kettle declared that the pot +was blacker. Both pot and kettle, meanwhile, +had an eye to business. That was +perfectly legitimate and natural, but the +radical mistake of the public lay in its view +of the press as a philanthropic institution +bent only on maintaining the cause of peace +and happiness, truth and justice, religion and +piety throughout the realm. It was obvious +to the reflective worldling that no journal +could be run on truly ethical lines with ultimate +advantage to the bank balance of its +proprietors; just as it was plain to the +world-fearing Christian that practical Christianity +would never “pay.” No journalist +or Christian admitted these facts. They +knew them quite well, but they ignored them, +and placidly drew around themselves the +comfortable robes of organised hypocrisy.</p> + +<p>The very last thing that any well-conducted +journal would have dreamed of would be the +printing of a slashing and remorseless attack<span class="pagenum" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</span> +upon the great Middle Class—the backbone +of the country and the mainstay of modern +journalism. Censures of the “smart set,” +foolishly so called, and of their social descendants, +of course had been administered +<em>ad nauseam</em>, thereby giving to a limited body +of showy persons (with more money—or +credit—than brains) an exaggerated sense +of their own interest and importance. The +lower orders, too, had met with stern rebuke +(for their thriftlessness, their laziness, and +their self-indulgence) but only in journals +which the lower orders never read. The +<em>Epoch</em>, however, assailed with tooth and nail +the denizens of the great middle country, the +buffer state in which dwelt all the respectables—the +clergy, the doctors, the lawyers, brokers, +dentists, accountants, surveyors, merchants, +shopkeepers, active and retired, who “made +England what it was,” and what the <em>Epoch</em> +roundly declared it ought not to be.</p> + +<p>As a journalistic programme this was considered +part and parcel of the midsummer +madness that had fallen on the distracted +capital. Fleet Street, Printing House Square, +Bouverie Street, Shoe Lane, and Whitefriars, +as embodied in the persons of representative +journalists, shook their heads. “It was playing +the fool”; it was “not cricket”; it was +“quarrelling with your bread-and-butter,”<span class="pagenum" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</span> +or killing the goose that laid the golden—or +at least the gilded—eggs; it was “the reckless +destruction of a splendid commercial +property”—in short, such bad “biz,” that +no editor would pursue it unless under orders +to ride deliberately for a fall. In particular, +to assail the Church! the Law!! the Medical +Faculty!!! in one fell charge! Midsummer +madness, indeed! To fall foul, not merely +of one learned profession—especially when +the <em>Epoch</em> might have gone for one of them +(the clergy for choice), and with impunity; +but to attack all three was—well it was pure, +absolute, and undiluted lunacy. Thus quoth +Fleet Street. But the onslaught continued. +From the archbishops down to the deacons, +none was spared.</p> + +<p>It was admitted that there were good and +true soldiers in the clerical ranks—some such +pitiful minority of righteous men as those +for whose sake Abraham, in his prayerful and +pathetic apology, entreated that the Cities of +the Plain might be spared. But for the rest?—the +time-serving right reverends on the +path of promotion, with one foot in the +sanctuary and the other in the temple of +Mammon; the deans and archdeacons who +clung to high benefice, and forgot the solemn +ordination vows of their early manhood; the +canons whose intellectual vanity found vent<span class="pagenum" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</span> +in sermons and pamphlets that argued faith +in the cardinal doctrines of Christianity to +be only a delusion and a snare; the holders +of rich livings who had waxed fat and kicked +against all the labours of parochial duty; +the popular preachers who did not practise +what they preached; the faithless stewards +of the mysteries who declared there were no +mysteries at all; and the flaccid curates who +feebly bleated in the pulpit to a congregation +of martyrs in the pews—for these, and all of +these, the <em>Epoch</em> let loose the chastisement of +journalistic whips and scorpions.</p> + +<p>Somewhat less sweeping was the treatment +dealt out to the profession of the healing art; +but here, too, condemnation was not spared. +The claptrap of the calling was its blight; +the “abracadabra” of its Latin prescriptions; +the bestowal of long names on short ailments; +the fetich of the medicine bottle; the hoodwinking +of the patient’s friends; the solemn-faced +acquiescence in the patient’s mendacious +explanations of his or her symptoms; +the decorous delusions indirectly fostered in +the best “bedside manner”; the pandering +to the egoism and self-importance of opulent +“sufferers”; the frequent farce of “second +opinions”; the puff paragraphs countenanced +by eminent practitioners in relation to their +visits to eminent patients; the etiquette that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</span> +supported the “lumping” of fees, and the +continuation of “professional services” long +after such services had ceased to be necessary: +these, perhaps, were but the stereotyped +faults which unthinking men regard as +justified by custom or their own necessities. +The rank and file of the medical brotherhood, +the <em>Epoch</em> admitted, had much work and +scanty wage. But the sins of their leading +men were more heinous. The selfishness +which made them contend for the retention +of great hospitals in unsuitable localities; +the enormous fees exacted from private +patients on the strength of hospital reputation; +the too ready use of the operating +knife on the human subject, and the tortures +of vivisection inflicted in the abused name +of science upon the dumb creation: these, +indeed, were sins that cried aloud for reproof +and repression.</p> + +<p>But the <em>Epoch</em> was more scathing still in +its bombardment of the system of judicature, +and the legal ministers thereof. It began +with the House of Lords as a legal tribunal—” the +gilded asylum in which judicial patients +suffering from the incurable disease of old +age delivered very occasional judgments in +exchange for princely salaries and exalted +rank.” The Royal Courts of Justice were +characterised as a gigantic honeycomb in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</span> +which clerkly drones got as much as they +could for doing as little as possible; a mighty +mill in which the machinery stood still during +vacations which lasted about a third of the +working year; a vast temple in which the +servers were ever engaged in piling fuel on +the altars of precedent and practice.</p> + +<p>Then the writer, or writers, went on to +deal with the legal practitioners, whom he +or they described as “Locusts of the Law”; +but here, again, there was no condemnation +for the honest rank and file—the barristers in +their chambers and the solicitors in their +offices, who were fair and square in their +dealings, and manfully struggled to keep +their footing under almost impossible conditions. +But for the brilliant leaders of the +Bar—the advocates who walked in silk attire +and siller had to spare—there was no gentleness. +“Scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites!” +For them, said the <em>Epoch</em>, the whole pretentious +fabric of our legal system was maintained; +for their advantage the monstrous +delusion of honorary services; for their +immunity the supposed dissociation of forensic +labour from forensic fees; and the helpless +position of suitors whose causes they +mismanaged or neglected.</p> + +<p>Contempt was poured on the “representative +bodies” which misrepresented the forensic<span class="pagenum" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</span> +profession—the General Council of the +Bar, with its policy of tithe, mint, and cumin, +and its neglect of the weightier matters of +the law; the Benchers, with their limpet-like +clinging to ancient funds and obsolete traditions; +the circuit messes, with their petty +jealousies and selfish trade-unionism.</p> + +<p>But here, in the middle-class multitude, if +anywhere, lay the true strength and stay of +the nation. With all their faults, these men +were mainly of the right sort. But they were +selfish, supine, indifferent, save to their own +immediate comfort and advantage. In politics +they were swayed by purely party cries, +or else not moved at all. In municipal affairs +they allowed themselves to be swamped by +noisy social democrats; in religion, if not +actually hostile to the Church, they maintained +a cautious “non-committal” attitude. +They placidly acquiesced in government by +permanent secretaries—men of clerkly mind, +the clustering, clinging barnacles on the great +ship of State. But when conscription was +talked of—when the idea of devoting a few +years to military training, and, in some dire +emergency, their lives, if need be, to the +service of king and mother-country—they held +up their hands in pious horror at the bare +thought of anything so “un-English,”—and +so very inconvenient!</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</span></p> + +<p>Thus may be very briefly summarised the +outspoken and unflinching attacks on bodies +of men and institutions which it had always +been considered right to pat on the back, and +on the leading members thereof, (to whom, +as they already had much, it was servilely +considered that more should be given). It +certainly was manifest that the <em>Epoch</em> writers +had been given a free hand, and had used +it, with <em>magna est veritas</em> for their war-cry. +Naturally, protests, remonstrances, denials, +poured in from the attacked; for to few is it +given to see ourselves as others see us.</p> + +<p>Yet, after all, it was but a twentieth century +echo; a rough and trenchant postscript to a +certain sermon preached long, long ago on +a Syrian mountain-side to listening multitudes +who were astonished at the Preacher’s +doctrines.</p> + +<p>Whether this stirring of the dry bones +would ultimately make for greater righteousness +time alone could show. Dark are the +workings of destiny; and in the path of reform +immediate results can rarely be recorded. +Undoubtedly the proximate outcome of the +<em>Epoch</em> campaign was a strengthening of the +cause of the malcontents. The numbers of +the Leaguers still grew and grew. They had, +in fact, become an army on half pay; for +every Leaguer, unemployed and unemployable,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</span> +drew something from the coffers of the +organisation, and thus the body of Adullamites +drew in every one that was in distress, and +every one that was in debt, and every one +that was discontented. In effect, the rate-payers +of London, who were for buying peace +at any price, had provided their enemy with +the sinews of war, and thereby hastened the +approaching climax.</p> + + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</span></p> +</div> + +<h2 class="nobreak" >CHAPTER XIII<br> +<small>THE STRANGE OUTBREAK AT QUEEN’S HALL</small></h2> + + +<p>The recrudescence of the Dancing Mania +first took notable form on a certain Sunday +evening. At Queen’s Hall the Sunday League—which +is in no way to be associated with +the Leaguers of London—had organised one +of those frequent and excellent concerts +which, presumably, are intended to provide +a suitable substitute for religious worship in +our churches. A famous conductor, whose +brilliant services to the cause of the higher +music had brought him a world-wide reputation, +was there to sway with his bâton the +finest orchestral band ever known to the +music-lovers of London.</p> + +<p>The great hall and the vast galleries were +densely packed, and as the programme proceeded, +the heat, generated by hundreds +upon hundreds of listening humans, became +intense and overpowering. There was a +marked sense of overstrain during the wonderful<span class="pagenum" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</span> +rendering of Tchaikovsky’s lengthy Symphony +(No. 6 in B minor). The music itself +was full of subtle emotion. Deep melancholy +alternated with swelling excitement. The +passionate pessimism of the Russian character +communicated itself through the medium +of the score to those among the great audience +who were predisposed to share it. The tragic +gloom and fatalism of the movement hung +like a thunder-cloud in the stifling atmosphere, +and the wailing sadness of the subdued finale +was succeeded by a tense silence. Then, as +the audience was about to burst into the +accustomed applause, a woman rose in the +body of the hall, and gave a piercing shriek. +The effect was electrical. Hundreds of people +started to their feet. Another shriek, still +more weird and piercing, drew a like response +from scores of throats. In an instant confusion +reigned throughout the hall and corridors, +and in the balconies. Attempts to +restore silence and order were drowned in +the general tumult. Here and there, men +and women, unable to reach the aisles, tried +to climb over the closely ranged lines of +movable stalls. Many of these seats fell with +a crash, and horrified spectators in the balconies +saw masses of people heaped and +struggling on the ground. The bandsmen +had risen excitedly, instruments in hand,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</span> +unheeding for once the gestures of the conductor, +who turned with pallid face, the +perspiration in great drops on his forehead, +and made imploring gestures to the audience. +Bruised and bleeding, distraught with terror, +some of those who had fallen in the effort to +escape struggled to their feet and fought +viciously and desperately to reach the exit +doors.</p> + +<p>The officials of the Sunday League, with +many persons in the audience, now made +great and partially successful efforts to prevent +a general rush. Shouts of “Sit down! +sit down!” came from all parts of the building. +The bandsmen were the first to resume +their seats, and while the outgoing crowd +was checked and marshalled into some sort +of order, others set a good example, and, +realising that there was absolutely no reason +for panic, settled down as if intending to +remain throughout the programme. But by +a wise discretion on the part of the conductor, +the concert was abandoned. At a signal, the +familiar first bar of the National Anthem +brought all to their feet again; then, turning +to the audience, the wielder of the bâton +invited them to join; and, with extraordinary +volume and fervour, “God Save the King” +brought the concert to a close. A terrible +catastrophe had been averted; for, by<span class="pagenum" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</span> +marvellous good fortune, no life was lost in +the frantic effort of a section of the audience +to escape. Those who were injured were being +hurried, half-fainting, into cabs, and those +who were merely suffering from shattered +nerves sat on chairs in the corridors, while +anxious friends tried to restore them to some +degree of self-control.</p> + +<p>The swift reaction, born of unexpected +safety, may perhaps account in some measure +for what followed. The woman whose scream +had given the first impulse to disturbance—afterwards +recognised as a Spanish dancer +at the Empire music-hall—was suddenly seen +to be moving down the corridor in a wild, +fantastic dance. Bursts of laughter greeted +the extraordinary and unlooked-for display. +An avenue was made for her, and on she +danced. Her hat was gone; her long black +hair had fallen to her waist, and her eyes were +blazing with the look of a demoniac. The +crowd closed after her, with fresh laughter, +which presently gave place to excited and +wondering exclamations. Now she was in +the entrance hall, and one of the officials laid +his hand upon her shoulder. She shook herself +free with a scream of foreign words. +Another moment, and those peering eagerly +from the entrance steps and pavement, saw +the Bacchantic figure whirling in the street.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</span> +The cries and tumultuous shouts which arose +among the crowd around the dancer, and the +warning shouts of the drivers of approaching +vehicles, brought hosts of visitors to the open +windows of the Langham and the neighbouring +houses. Presently, those who could look +down from these vantage points, and others +who now packed the steps of All Souls’ Church, +saw with bewilderment that the magnetism +of example had drawn some six or seven +young girls and women into a kind of dance +which imitated the movements of the Spaniard.</p> + +<p>Thus the glare of the electric lights revealed +one of the strangest and most lamentable +scenes ever witnessed in the streets of London. +It was brief, but pregnant with painful possibilities. +Two or three policemen, as soon as +they realised in some measure what was +happening, assisted by some resolute men +who had now emerged from the hall, brought +the dancers to a forcible standstill. Their +resistance was cat-like, savage; but exhaustion +aided the efforts of the constables, +and within twenty minutes the roadway was +cleared, the crowd dispersed, and Langham +Place had almost resumed its normal aspect.</p> + +<p>For ten days after these occurrences there +was nothing to indicate that they were likely +to be repeated. Then, in another quarter +of London, there was a somewhat similar<span class="pagenum" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</span> +outbreak, and, unhappily, on a more extensive +scale. It took place among the girl-pupils +attending a large school of shorthand +in Southampton Row. Rumour had it, and +probably it was true, that some of them had +been present at Queen’s Hall on the occasion +already chronicled. After the long, hot afternoon +hours in the class-rooms, the shorthand +pupils—girls and youths—poured out in the +usual throng into the streets. There was a +good deal of gossiping, as usual, and here +and there a little innocent flirtation. The +flower-sellers, who drive their trade near +Cosmo Place on the pavement of Southampton +Row, as usual eagerly drew attention to +their baskets. Then one, whose basket was +first emptied, executed a wild pirouette of +triumph. Some of the young men applauded +vigorously. Here and there a girl was pushed +forward, and some of the more reckless danced +a few steps, in imitation of the flower-seller. +The spark was in the bonfire! and before +any one realised what was happening, a score +of dancers, male and female, filled the pavement, +and by force of numbers moved into +the roadway. To escape the horse traffic +and motors, they whirled across at an angle +into Russell Square. The cabmen on the +stand applauded them derisively, bursting +into coarse guffaws. Incoherent cries came<span class="pagenum" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</span> +from the parched throats of the dancers. +Some of them now joined hands and swept +over the broad southern roadway of the +square; others, with grotesque gestures, +danced alone, leaping into the air at intervals. +A cornet-player, who was standing near the +north corner of Bedford Place, raised his +instrument to his lips, and the clear, sudden +notes that followed seemed to act upon his +hearers as a trumpet-call. It served to +quicken to an almost appalling degree the +epidemic character of the amazing outbreak; +for passers-by, moved as by an irresistible +impulse, joined in the maddened movement +of the dancers. They overflowed into the +quiet thoroughfare of Bedford Place. From +the residential hotels and boarding-houses +on either side people rushed to the doorways +and windows. Servants, with shrill cries, +hurried up area steps to witness, with loud +comment, the stupefying display, until many +of the watchers themselves were drawn +into the widening circles of the excited +dancers.</p> + + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</span></p> +</div> + +<h2 class="nobreak" >CHAPTER XIV<br> +<small>BILLY OF MAYFAIR</small></h2> + + +<p>There was one, and only one, section of +society in London that found unalloyed +pleasure in the abnormal features of the +period. The youth of the lower orders revelled +in the absence of the restraint that +hitherto had qualified the natural joy of life. +The Boy in the Street in all his varied experiences +had never had so good a time +before. He made the most of it. He came, +not as a single spy, but in battalions. His +shrill voice rent the air day and night; his +cockney smartness found new and glorious +opportunities for exercise; the badinage of +the pavement was heard on every side. The +march of the Leaguers, or the whirling rush +of a band of Dancers, never failed to stir him +to loud delight or tumultuous excitement.</p> + +<p>There was one small youth, here entering +the pages of this chronicle, who participated +with the keenest relish in the unfolding drama<span class="pagenum" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</span> +of the day. This boy was Billy of Mayfair. +Not always had he found his headquarters +in that highly rented and exclusive district. +Like the Wise Men, and like many clever +boys, he came from the East. But his travels +westward began at an extremely early age, +and in regard to the migrations of that +period Billy’s mind was quite a blank. His +grandmother, a woman of no importance, and +given, when means permitted, to inebriety, +sometimes mentioned Poplar as the place of +his nativity, and on other occasions asserted +that in the Isle of Dogs Billy’s pink eyes +first opened on the murky world down East. +There was not much difference, and nothing +to choose between those grimy regions, and +Billy himself never troubled his white-thatched +head about the past. He was in the West +Central district when first he realised that +he was anywhere, and he accepted his surroundings +just as he accepted his physical +peculiarities. Billy was quite accustomed +to the special, if unflattering, notice which +his appearance attracted, and showed no +surprise or resentment when addressed +contemptuously as a “blooming Halbino.”</p> + +<p>If a skin specialist had explained to him +that his abnormal skin and hair resulted from +an absence of the minute particles of colouring +matter usually found in the lowest layer of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</span> +the epidermis, he would have listened respectfully +and then departed with the skimming +step and whooping yell familiar to his +young companions of the gutter. But nobody +explained him to himself, and it was an +accepted, and not perhaps unwelcome, fact +that he was not like other boys.</p> + +<p>When Billy reached the age of ten he was +still residing in a “third floor back” in an +unsavoury court of which the narrow entrance +is in Chapel Street, a short thoroughfare +running from Lamb’s Conduit Street to Milman +Street. But Billy was not much at +home; nor was Billy’s grandmother aforesaid,—a +prematurely aged and doddering +person who earned precarious pence by perfunctorily +sweeping crossings in an adjacent +square. At night the two shared the +shelter of the third floor back, and breathed +till morning light, or darkness, the poisonous +air of the miserable apartment. In warm +fine weather Billy kept late hours. Sometimes, +like the people who were “seeing +life”—Heaven save the mark!—the boy did +not go home till morning. Billy, like many +another gutter child in London, knew much +of its night side—the side known to the +policemen, to hansom-cabmen, and to hospital +nurses on night duty, who look out of +window when cabs rattle up to certain<span class="pagenum" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</span> +neighbouring houses. Editors and journalists +know also of that night side, but all +things are not for publication. Half the +world is ignorant of the deadly canker eating +into the vitals of the nation; and the other +half keeps silence.</p> + +<p>It was through being out late at night +that Billy lost his leg. It fell out thus: +Billy, dead tired, was sleeping in a doorway +at the top of Bedford Row, when the vigilant +eye of P.C. Dormer espied his small and +huddled form. The law, through the eyes +of the constabulary, looks with sternness on +such lapses from well-ordered life and habits. +The open-air treatment must not be adopted +on your own responsibility. If you have no +home—well, you ought to have. You may +walk the king’s highway, but if that grows +fatiguing and you slumber on a doorstep, it +is the plain duty of P.C. Dormer to rouse and +move you on. In effect, to be homeless is to +be criminal, and to wander abroad without +any visible means of subsistence, brings man +or boy within the purview of the law. Lucky +for you if P.C. Dormer does not see reason +to conclude that incidentally you are loitering +with intent to commit a felony.</p> + +<p>So Billy was shaken, and slumbered again; +he did not rise, but the policeman’s temper +did. So the grip of a mighty hand came<span class="pagenum" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</span> +upon Billy’s bony little shoulder, making +him call out sharply and then whimper.</p> + +<p>“Get out o’ this,” growled the constable. +So Billy got out, into Theobald’s Road. +There, at what he believed to be a safe distance, +he found another lurking-place, and +having had a fatiguing day in the streets, +he fell asleep again. But the law was on +his trail. P.C. Dormer’s bull’s-eye, searching +nooks and doorways, discovered once again +the insignificant rebel against social order. +Dormer was greatly ruffled. At the corner +of Gray’s Inn Road, half an hour earlier, he +had encountered a band of hooligans, who, +strong in numbers, had jeered at his authority. +In such circumstances it was but police +nature that he should take it out of somebody. +And here was Billy, defying or ignoring +the majesty of the law! With a howl of +pain and terror the boy came out of his +dreams to find himself once more in the +grip of a superior force. He wriggled to the +pavement and lay there sobbing. Then P.C. +Dormer gave him a vicious kick and Billy +screamed with agony. It was no good now +to tell him to be off. To “move on” was a +physical impossibility. He lay and writhed.</p> + +<p>The next day he was in hospital in Great +Ormond Street. He was supposed to have +been knocked down by a fire engine in a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</span> +hurry. Billy knew better, but he held his +peace. His bibulous grandmother told the +matron that “there’d always been summat +wrong with his ’ip.” There was something +very wrong now; and presently they transferred +the injured child to the Alexandra +Hospital in Queen Square, where hip disease +was a speciality. Surgeons came and went, +and now and then there were operation days +at intervals. There came a day when the +operating knife was brought to bear on Billy, +and when it had done its necessary work, +Billy’s right leg was his no more, and for a +time he had that weird experience of feeling +pain in a member that was non-existent.</p> + +<p>Sister, staff-nurse, day nurses and night +nurses—they were all kind and tender to the +little one-legged patient. They assured him +he would be all right now, and that he was +going to have a beautiful little crutch to get +along with presently. His grandmother came +to see him on visitors’ days, blear-eyed and +pendulous of lip. On those days, indeed, +many impossible parents and guardians went +up the stone stairs of the Alexandra, bringing +cheap and noisy toys, and refreshments of a +wholly inappropriate character. With the general +throng came on one occasion a stalwart +man who walked like a policeman. He was +a policeman. It was P.C. Dormer. He was a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</span> +good fellow in the main, and he had children +of his own. At first Billy did not recognise +him out of uniform. Then remembrance +dawned, and to his amazement his quick pink +eyes noted tears in the eyes of P.C. Dormer. +Clumsily, ashamedly, the constable put a +painted toy upon the bed, and Billy smiled. +Then the big man, with hasty glance around, +bent his great red face over him.</p> + +<p>“You ’aven’t spilt, ’ave you?” he asked +in a hoarse whisper.</p> + +<p>“Not me,” said Billy, speaking very low, +but very scornfully.</p> + +<p>“My Gawd! but you’re a good plucked +’un!” said P.C. Dormer. “I’m damned +sorry, that I am.” His great fist closed upon +the small boy’s tiny hand. It was the proudest, +happiest moment Billy had ever known.</p> + +<p>Sometimes, though the Alexandra was devoted +to the hip-diseases of children, other +diseases found an entry; and one day, Billy, +who had shown disquieting symptoms, found +himself, as the nurses said “in isolation.” +In other words, he was placed in a detached +ward, approached by a short bridge, under +the care of a nurse specially told off +to watch and tend him, and perchance to +catch the same disease herself. The word went +round that it was “dip.” And “dip” it +was. When the doctor was sure of that,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</span> +Billy was treated with anti-toxin for diphtheria, +and the telephone was quickly set to +work. An ambulance came round—a beautiful +carriage, the nurse in charge explained; +and Billy—nurses nodding and smiling at a +distance, with eyes that had a tearful, frightened +look—was borne down the staircase and +so away to Hampstead. There, in the “dip” +ward of the Fever Hospital, he fought the +fight with death—the students in their quaint +garb looking on; and, to the surprise of all, +came out victorious.</p> + +<p>Seven weeks later he was discharged, and +back again in the three-pair back. There was +the old grandmother, doddering still, the +same, yet not the same. One grey morning, +when Billy awoke, something in her appearance +startled him. The poor old thing was +dead; and so unsightly and alarming in his +eyes that straightway he arose and fled, +hopping and tapping with his crutch along +the grey, deserted streets—anywhere, anywhere +away from that awesome sight.</p> + +<p>How the boy lived, or starved, throughout +the next few days he never realised. When +at length he mustered courage to return, all +that remained of “this our sister” was there +no longer. The parish authorities were accustomed +to these cases. The room was +swept and garnished after a fashion. Already<span class="pagenum" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</span> +other tenants were in possession, and Billy +was admonished to go about his business. +Having no business, he hopped vaguely into +the streets again. He had a horror now of +walls and rooms. Over there in the Alexandra +he had had his experiences, and outside +the National, on the opposite side of the +square, in the night, he had sometimes heard +blood-curdling screams from epileptic patients. +He shuddered—shook, as it were, the dust +from his remaining foot, and hopped off towards +the unexplored regions of the west.</p> + +<p>Along Great Russell Street he made his +way, gazing at the grim mass of the great +museum, and wondering if it were another +hospital or a prison. There were pigeons and +policemen inside the formidable railings. +The former attracted; but the latter repelled. +So he turned his back on the mighty store-house +of antiquities, caring and knowing +nothing about the forty-three miles of the +bookshelves, and all the cheerless wonders +of its different sections. Onward he hopped, +across Tottenham Court Road into Oxford +Street. The district pleased him. Presently +the waving of big boughs attracted notice, and +exploration led him into Grosvenor Square. +Further investigation resulted in the discovery +of Berkeley Square, and finally, very +weary and hungry, he sat down to rest on<span class="pagenum" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</span> +the doorstep of Sir John Westwood’s house +in Hill Street.</p> + +<p>From that day forth the boy became and +remained Billy of Mayfair; destined to play +his little part in national events.</p> + + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</span></p> +</div> + +<h2 class="nobreak" >CHAPTER XV<br> +<small>THE SHRINE OF LUXURY AND PRIDE</small></h2> + + +<p>Thus the wind of the world, which bloweth +whither it listeth—or whither the Great +Spirit that rules the world directs—had wafted +Billy, a fortuitous atom of humanity, into +touch with Aldwyth Westwood and Father +Francis of St Stephen’s. Billy, however, +fought shy of Father Francis, who had speedily +run across him. The boy was not very keen +on the clergy; being rather disposed to class +them with the police—and that, indeed, in a +moral sense is what they are, or ought to be. +But with Aldwyth, who discovered him one +early morning on the doorstep, he speedily +developed friendly relations. He soon learnt +to look up to her with reverently admiring +eyes, as a beautiful being belonging to another +sphere; one who smiled with an enchanting +smile, and bestowed sixpences as other people +bestowed halfpence.</p> + +<p>Not that the boy lived wholly on charity.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</span> +Sometimes he invested his little capital in a +stock of newspapers, and persistently thrust +that luminous organ, the <em>Planet</em>, under the +notice of the wayfarer. But there was not +much sale for the <em>Planet</em> in Mayfair. The +truth is, that Billy never realised the greatness +of his surroundings, and the Birth and +Wealth of other residents in that favoured +district of the peerage and the plutocracy; +nor would any one know the importance of +Mayfair merely from personal observation. +The <em>cliché</em> of locality is not a matter of instinct, +but of manufacture. In Mount Street, +close at hand, a good deal of the manufacturing +was done by the eminent firms of +auctioneers and estate agents, the bank-like +qualities of whose establishments appealed to +the rich and the refined. Plate-glass windows, +burnished mahogany, polished brass—plenty +of brass—soft carpets, and delightful chairs, +allured the seekers after mansions in town or +country. Not here did vulgar posters in +thick and sticky ink offend the eye. Bills of +all sorts, including the little bills for commission +and miscellaneous services, were kept +out of sight. Beautifully executed photographs +of desirable properties for gentlemen +of position were to be seen in these handsome +offices, and expensively got-up Particulars +and Conditions of Sale were freely issued<span class="pagenum" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</span> +through the medium of the post. They could +let you a cramped little dwelling in Mayfair +for as low a rent as £450 a year, but, of course, +for a really commodious residence, a much +higher figure was demanded.</p> + +<p>It was a much higher rent that Sir John +Westwood paid for his house in Hill Street. +Long past and gone were the days of suburban +residence. The rising man, like the man who +is born on the heights, must have the right +address. It was good enough for the once +obscure barrister to journey daily from Norwood +Junction, reminded <em>ad nauseam</em> by the +railway porters of the interesting regions of +Anerley, Penge, Brockley, and New Cross. +But a law adviser of the Crown, a parliamentarian +battling for a foremost footing, must +live in the right quarter. Mayfair is the +place for the mighty, just as Harley Street—the +valley of the shadow—is the place for +the eminent doctor. The specialist knows +that the people who come to him will measure +his value less by his treatment than by the +locality in which he writes his prescriptions. +Such is the wisdom of the world.</p> + +<p>So Aldwyth Westwood had the satisfaction +of feeling that round and about her resided, +when in town, the fine flower of British rank +and fashion. But rank and fashion as yet +showed no eagerness to embrace her with<span class="pagenum" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</span> +effusion. Her friends were few; perhaps the +best of them was plain Molly Barter, the +nursery governess of her early days, who had +stayed on indefinitely as quasi-companion, +needlewoman, and general factotum of the +house. Miss Barter was a person of the +happiest disposition; calm and unimaginative, +untroubled by the problems of life; +sound, not to say solid, in her views of things +in general; unvarying in appetite and modes +of expression, and devoted to Aldwyth with +a sort of dog-like fidelity.</p> + +<p>Miss Barter did not understand Aldwyth. +There were many things she did not even try +to understand. She had never read Voltaire; +but to her it seemed, even in those troubled +months, that nearly everything was for the +best, in the best of all possible worlds. That +was by no means the opinion of Aldwyth +Westwood. None the less, she found comfort +in the mental altitude of the faithful +Molly, who feared neither ghosts nor mice, +and remained quite unmoved in the presence +of a blackbeetle. Miss Barter, through Aldwyth, +also made the acquaintance of Billy. +To her it seemed not unreasonable that he +should be homeless and ragged. Sometimes +she asked him, with slight signs of severity, +what he had done with his cap, and Billy had +to explain that “the chaps”—meaning other<span class="pagenum" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</span> +boys, two legged and aggressive—had deprived +him of that article. The same thing happened +whenever a new cap or an old was given to +Billy; the “chaps” seemed to think that +a “blooming little Halbino” ought to show +the colour of his hair. So Billy’s cap was +“chucked” over a wall, or down an area, +and there was an end of it.</p> + +<p>Another friend of his—one Joe, a stableman +at the mews in Hill Street—told him that it +wasn’t respectable to go capless in those +parts. But what could a boy do, much as he +would have liked to give satisfaction to the +stableman, for Joe was good to him.</p> + +<p>On chilly nights he sometimes allowed the +small vagrant to hop into a coach-house or +harness-room, and sleep like a little lord in +warmth and comfort. In return, Billy allowed +Joe to scan the racing tips and learn +the latest odds without investing in the +purchase of a <em>Planet</em>. The coachmen and +footmen of the locality were much more +haughty. Men of their position knew what +was due to it, and had no sympathy with +intrusive ragamuffins from the far East. The +Mayfair flunkey still lived up to the lofty +traditions of “Jeames de la Pluche of Buckley +Square”:</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> +<p>“He vel became his hagwillets,<br> +He cocked his ’at with <em>such</em> an hair; +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</span><br> +His calves and viskers <em>was</em> such pets,<br> +That hall loved Jeames of Buckley Square.”</p> +</div> +</div> + +<p>While as to the butlers, they, indeed, were +dignitaries to be viewed and revered from a +distance. Once, in his inexperience, Billy +volunteered to assist a Hill Street butler, +who brought forth his bicycle to place on a +four-wheeler. The man swore at him. But +as Joe, who saw the episode, observed to +Billy, “It warn’t no good to expect anything +from that sort. A chap like that never did +a day’s work in his (sanguinary) life. He was +too d——d artful.” With which, Joe, bare-armed +and hot, resumed his “hissing,” and +vigorously cleaned down his “hoss.”</p> + +<p>There were a great many little tips to be +picked up in Mayfair during the early summer +months following Billy’s coming to the district. +He arrived after the first demonstration +of the Leaguers in Hyde Park, and therefore +missed the Sunday visit of the mob to +the Westwoods’ house in Hill Street. But +after that there was such a stampede from +the big houses, that the ubiquitous cab-tout, +especially the tout who wore a “spider,” +reaped quite a harvest thereabouts. He took +care, however, that so weak a competitor as +the crippled boy should keep his distance. +So Billy, to some extent unintentionally, developed +a means of raising money in which<span class="pagenum" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</span> +no tout could rival him. The pace at which +he learnt to hop along was quite amazing; +but, not content with that, he took to making +high leaps in the air, coming down upon his +foot and crutch for the most part without +disaster. Then he essayed to dance a little +on one leg, after the manner of Donato, a one-legged +man who, once upon a time, drew +all London to Drury Lane to see him in a +pantomime.</p> + +<p>The passers-by, seeing these perilous displays +of agility, paused with horror, and then +produced a coin. One day, outside a mansion +on the east side of Berkeley Square, a thin +pale-faced gentleman, with a worried look, +stared aghast for a moment while the unconscious +Billy was rehearsing. And when +the worried man passed into the house, the +young acrobat found a shilling, actually a silver +shilling, in his hand. He asked who the gentleman +was, and Joe informed him that he was +none other than the most noble the Marquis of +Downland. No wonder he was worried; for, +apart from the domestic agitation of the capital, +the pulse of other capitals had to be felt +through the medium of the wires in Downland +House. All the inner workings of the +Chancelleries of Europe were known within +those walls; all the devious devices of diplomacy; +all the international collisions avoided<span class="pagenum" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</span> +by a hair’s breadth; all the movements of +foreign fleets; all the ambitions of foreign +potentates and the disposal of continental +armies. For the Marquis was Minister for +Foreign Affairs, and they gave him sleepless +nights. To Downland House came ambassadors +and envoys at critical junctures in the +lives of States. They came after the great +naval battle of the Dogger Bank, in which a +powerful fleet of trawlers, armed with fishing +nets, was utterly routed by a Russian Squadron; +they came again, but less conspicuously, +when a German Squadron paid a surprise +visit to Tangier. And there were many conferences +there when certain Powers proposed +to close the Baltic Sea to British men-of-war.</p> + +<p>When the Foreign Secretary suffered from +nightmare, it generally took the form of a +thing with wings. It was a creature which +sought to imitate the Apostle Peter by walking +on the sea—a web-footed, oceanic bird, +with a rudimentary hinder toe, and the upper +mandible very strongly hooked. This restless +bird liked to visit every sea, skimming the +surface and gobbling the small fishes, crustaceans, +molluscs, and the rest of them. It +always came in view in stormy weather. +When the Foreign Secretary awoke from +these bad dreams, he never felt quite sure<span class="pagenum" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</span> +whether the bird were a gigantic stormy petrel +or the German Emperor.</p> + +<p>But of course his lordship did know that, +in the Kaiser’s view, “the twentieth century +belonged to Germany,” and that his Majesty +also considered Britannia had ruled the waves +too long. Wherefore, Hoch! and again, +Hoch! for the rights of the Vaterland. How +glorious an achievement—as foretold by the +German romance-writer—to drive the British +Squadrons from the North Sea; to disembark +without difficulty sixty thousand German +warriors at Leith; to march southward, while +accommodating French allies landed another +army at Hastings and closed in on London; to +dictate terms of peace at Hampton Court; +and then to enter London with all the pomp +and circumstance of war—imperial victor—not +merely William the Second, but William +the Second Conqueror of England. Hoch! +and again, Hoch! and Hoch! once +more.</p> + +<p>A dream? the baseless fabric of a vision? +Probably; but the German navy was a stern +reality; they were very busy over there at +Kiel, Heligoland, and elsewhere, and realities +must be reckoned with. The shipwrights’ +hammers resounded persistently in the German +dockyards, and the clangour crossed the +sea.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</span></p> + +<p>So Lord Downland had a good deal to +think of in Berkeley Square, as well as at the +Foreign Office; though, even so, he little +dreamed of what the Royal Petrel would be +about before the year was out.</p> + + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</span></p> +</div> + +<h2 class="nobreak" >CHAPTER XVI<br> +<small>THE MANIA THAT LAID HOLD OF LONDON</small></h2> + + +<p>When London became fully alive to the weird +occurrences in its midst, the first feeling was +one of contempt, but it was quickly followed +by the dawn of consternation. An article +in the <em>Lancet</em>, widely quoted by the lay newspapers, +dealt gravely with the problems that +the revival of the Dancing Mania presented. +It foreshadowed possible developments in +terms which led husbands to look at their +wives, and fathers at their daughters, with +an uneasy feeling that they, too, might become +victims of what the <em>Lancet</em> described in +technical terms as chorea, and in popular +language, as a form of St Vitus’s dance. Like +lawyers searching for precedents, the press-men +of the day delved diligently for the history +of the Dancing Plague. The best contribution +on the subject was contained in an +anonymous article which appeared in the +<em>Fortnightly Review</em>. The writer pointed out<span class="pagenum" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</span> +that these convulsionary manifestations were +more or less prevalent during a period of +quite two hundred years, dating from the +end of the fourteenth century, and that, +human nature being the same in all ages, +there was nothing inconceivable, or even improbable, +in a revival of such distressing +symptoms in modern times. The difference +would be in treatment rather than in the +disorder itself. In former times chorea was +regarded as curable only by those—the priests—who +had the cure of souls. People who +were hurried body and soul into the magic +circle of hellish superstition needed to be +rescued by supernatural agencies. The screaming, +foaming men and women who in the +Middle Ages swept with wild gyrations through +the towns of Germany and the Netherlands, +therefore, were made the subject of priestly +exorcisms. They were forcibly dragged to +the shrines of St John or St Vitus, where, +by means of masses and religious ceremonies, +the evil spirits were believed to be cast out. +In regard to St Vitus in particular, the priests +invented a legend that the holy youth had +prayed to be protected from the Dancing +Mania, and lo! an answer from heaven—” Vitus, +thy prayer is accepted.” Thus, for +all time, had the martyred St Vitus become +patron saint of all who were afflicted with<span class="pagenum" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</span> +chorea, just as St Martin of Tours was the +patron of all who suffered from small-pox.</p> + +<p>It was not until the sixteenth century, the +writer said, that the physicians had made +any attempt to take the dire disease scientifically +in hand. One thing was absolutely +certain—the deep-seated inclination of morbidly +imaginative persons to imitate the +afflictions of others. In the language of the +<em>British Medical Journal</em>, “Such attacks themselves +were, as in all nervous complaints, +the almost necessary crises of an inward +morbid condition which was transferred from +the sensorium to the nerves of motion.”</p> + +<p>On the medical aspect of the modern outbreak +it is unnecessary to dwell. Two significant +circumstances, however, may be noticed. +Ample authority was given for the statement +that in the Middle Ages the Dancing Plague +had always been most prevalent in the month +of June; and, secondly, had wrought its +greatest ravages among shoemakers, tailors, +and others who led a confined or sedentary +life. Thus it came about that those Londoners +who were under no compulsion to remain in +town, reading these articles, developed the +greatest urgency in leaving it. Ere midsummer +day had passed, scenes at the great +railway stations became quite amazing. Piles +of luggage blocked the platforms, bribes to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</span> +secure seats were offered freely to the railway +men, and though enormous exertions were +made to cope with the outgoing traffic, the +congestion became almost unmanageable. The +scenes enacted at Victoria, Waterloo, and +London Bridge in particular were such as had +not been known in the whole history of +English railways.</p> + +<p>The haste and extent of these departures +involved incomplete arrangements for the +protection of vast numbers of London houses +and of the property that they contained. +Burglaries, and even daylight robberies became +frequent and daring. It was observed +that the victims of these impudent thieves +were mostly those whose names were not in +the lists of subscribing members of the League; +and, whether justly or unjustly, most of the +burglaries and robberies with violence chronicled +in the daily press were connected with +the operations of that much-feared and ever-increasing +association.</p> + +<p>In such circumstances it was inevitable +that much abuse should be showered on the +police. But, as a body, the Metropolitan +force remained loyal and zealous. The same +must in justice be said of the City police, on +whom depended the safety of the enormous +wealth garnered in the vaults and strong-rooms +of the City banks and warehouses.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</span></p> + +<p>But the police at each end of the town now +had to reckon with unprecedented problems. +The Leaguers were far too numerous to be +suppressed, even if a hesitating Government +had given the mandate—which, it seemed, +they dared not do. Moreover, it was found +practically impossible to secure convictions +or even to complete prosecutions. The magistrates +and judges were prepared to do their +duty, but witnesses were afraid to come forward, +and jurymen who could not manage +to get medical certificates to excuse their +absence, nevertheless stayed away from the +criminal courts, and submitted, as a choice +of evils, to the payment of heavy fines. +Throughout the long and blazing summer +days, bands of Leaguers marched through the +streets, ringing at doors or hoisting collecting +boxes on long poles to the first-floor windows. +Shops were invaded in like manner. At the +hotels and clubs defence corps were organised, +but so menacing was the aspect of the wearers +of the metal disc that in most instances peace +had to be bought rather than insisted on. +Then suddenly the cry would be raised, “The +Dancers are coming; the Dancers: the +Dancers!” The sound of bagpipes, drums, +or of accordions, blended with the hum of +many voices and the rush of feet, and bands +of girls and men swept into view, dishevelled,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</span> +heated, but whirling with fantastic steps +through street and square, dancing and +dancing still, while some in the climax of +delirium sank in exhaustion to the +ground.</p> + +<p>The places of those who fell out of the +Dancers’ ranks were constantly filled with +new recruits. Many bystanders, who began +by watching and wondering, felt themselves +drawn into the repulsive vortex. Women, +more especially, were thus allured. Girls came +rushing from behind shop counters. The doors +of private houses were suddenly thrown open, +and in spite of the efforts to prevent them, +unhappy women fought their way into the +street to be absorbed in a moment in the ever-moving +circles of the maddened Dancers. It +was noticed that there were certain instruments +and certain types of music which developed +the tendency to join in and exaggerate +these deplorable public exhibitions. Night +was rendered hideous by the noise that filled +the streets. Indeed, during the short hours +of darkness, the quiet stars looked down on +many a sight that well might make the angels +weep. London was become in a more painful +sense than ever a City of Dreadful Night. The +Dancing Mania had got a strengthening grip +upon its people. At one time it seemed only +too likely that it would become an epidemic<span class="pagenum" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</span> +of appalling extent and characteristics throughout +the kingdom.</p> + +<p>Regarded thoughtfully, there were many +causes that tended to bring about such an +outbreak of hysteria in that exceptionally +hot and rainless summer, (bringing as it did +a dearth of water for domestic use and street +cleansing). The state of things was summed +up thus by an able German writer: “Imitation—compassion—sympathy—these +are imperfect +designations for a common bond of +union among human beings—for an instinct +which connects individuals with the general +body, which embraces with equal force reason +and folly, good and evil, and diminishes the +praise of virtue as well as the criminality of +vice.... Far be it from us to attempt to +awaken all the various tones of this chord, +whose vibrations reveal the profound secrets +which lie hid in the inmost recesses of the +soul.”</p> + +<p>But, assuredly, it was to this mysterious +instinct of imitation that one must look for +explanation of that loss of will power, of +which, in that distressing time, so many +Londoners were either examples or witnesses. +The first morbid condition produced was that +of a bird fascinated by a serpent, and the +outcome was surrender to the violent excitement +of the Dancing Plague. There was<span class="pagenum" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</span> +another feature of the times, more or less connected +with the administration of justice, +that began to cause dismay. The police +found it practically impossible to enforce the +provisions of the Licensing Acts. Riotous +scenes occurred when attempts were made +to close the public-houses at statutory hours. +Customers, amongst whom the disc-holders +figured prominently, refused to go. They +demanded more drink, and they got it. +Isolated examples of this lawlessness could +have been put down, but it was so general +that enforced obedience became as impossible +as the vindication of criminal justice in the +law courts.</p> + +<p>Only when the stage of exhaustion or helpless +intoxication had been reached, did the +foul-mouthed and turbulent customers of the +publicans come forth into the streets.</p> + +<p>Often they fought and screamed in the +grey sadness of the dawning day; some +staggered off in search of home or resting-place; +others rolled in the gutters, and where +they rolled they lay, while frightened faces +peered from the upper windows of the neighbouring +houses, and startled children in their +cots broke into cries of misery and terror.</p> + + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</span></p> +</div> + +<h2 class="nobreak" >CHAPTER XVII<br> +<small>THE GREAT FIRE IN HYDE PARK</small></h2> + + +<p>Greatly moved by the evil things that had +befallen London, and stung in some measure +by the trenchant attacks appearing in the +<em>Epoch</em>, a small band of London clergy who had +recognised in this grave crisis a challenge to +the Church, set themselves earnestly to alleviate +the growing sufferings of their people. +Among the most active and unconventional +of this little band was Father Francis. His +church—St Stephen’s—was the first that was +made available for the definite purpose of +checking the spread of the Dancing Mania +by special prayer and meditation. The +unhappy subjects of this repellent affliction +were invited to seek the calm of the sacred +buildings, and find in the contemplation of +the sanctuary rest for their perturbed spirits, +peace from the contagious excitement of the +stifling streets. Strange scenes were sometimes +witnessed in these churches—frequented<span class="pagenum" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</span> +as they came to be not merely by those who, +already, had been drawn into the whirlpool +of the mania, and vehemently desired to be +preserved from a relapse, but thronged also +by girls and women who, though hitherto +unaffected, felt and feared they, too, could +not long escape.</p> + +<p>Outside, in the glare of day or in the shadow +of night, tumultuous sounds would reach the +ears of priests and suppliants. Nearer and +nearer came the clangour of crude instruments +of music; broken cries and bursts of hysterical +laughter filled the outer air; the scuffling +of the Dancers’ feet became more and more +audible. Perhaps the direful medley came +and passed without any of the Dancers entering +the church. At other times they crowded +in with loud discordant noises. But almost +always these were soon subdued by the +solemn stillness of the building, and the unmoved +calm of kneeling men and women, +already earnestly engaged in intercessory +prayer. No set services were attempted after +the first few experiments. It was found that +sermons or addresses often stimulated feelings +already over-excited, and that hymns produced +uncontrollable emotion. But the church +organs were put to constant use when it was +discovered that music, especially music of +a certain type, was marvellously potent in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</span> +stilling the overwrought nerves of the Dancers +and allaying the tendency to hysterical outbreaks.</p> + +<p>This remarkable result of musical sounds +recalled to many the recorded effects of the +Italian tarantellas in counteracting the effect +of poisonous spider-bites. Not only so, but +it was whispered by the more credulous that +spider-bites actually were the cause of the +mania in its modern form, and that in this +connection, the spider symbol of the Leaguers +possessed a special and malignant meaning. +That there were numerous instances of self-deception +and of fraud was beyond all question. +That, indeed, is a common experience +among hysterical persons, and in this instance, +as already intimated, the Dancers were largely +recruited from classes predisposed to excitement +and delusion—factory girls from the +East End, workers in close, unhealthy surroundings, +and great numbers who belonged +to the painted sisterhood of the streets. +Practically it was a form of insanity, and now +for the first time the curative effect of music +in the treatment of mental disease received +something like systematic application. Music, +of certain kinds, it was certain, excited to +exhibition of the mania; music at the same +time provided for many the virtue of an +antidote. Unfortunately, though these combined<span class="pagenum" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</span> +influences of religion and melody were +so well employed for the benefit of large +numbers, there were still greater numbers +untouched by any sort of remedy, whose wild +paroxysms were constantly drawing new adherents +into the ranks of the Dancers. Any +attempt at forcible suppression only resulted +in displays of increased violence. Practically +the evil had grown in a few weeks to such a +head that the authorities had to stand by +in the hope that it would wear itself away. +Already the police were vastly overweighted +by the task of maintaining any semblance of +public order. There were hosts of designing +men and women who aided and abetted the +grotesque excesses of the Dancers for no other +purpose than to take advantage of opportunities +for conduct violating every principle +of public decorum.</p> + +<p>Thus the fateful summer wore away. The +railway termini presented conditions more +chaotic than ever. All outgoing trains were +densely packed by Londoners fleeing with +their families from the multiplying terrors of +the capital. But though scores of thousands +escaped, millions necessarily remained—the +helpless puppets of time and circumstance.</p> + +<p>When at length the August Bank holiday +came round, the disorganised condition of the +railway service led to the abandonment of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</span> +any adequate provision for the usual excursion +traffic; as a consequence, vast crowds, that +in the ordinary course would have got away +from London, were practically kept prisoners +within its bounds. The reek of the wood and +asphalt of the streets, the glare of the pavements, +and the pitiless rays of the relentless +sun, drove them in herds into the public parks. +There, under the parched foliage of the trees, +some measure of shelter could be had, and on +the brown and dusty grass holiday keepers—Heaven +save the mark!—threw themselves +down in weariness and sullen discontent, while +hosts of women and children, indifferent to +the feeble remonstrances of the frightened +park-keepers, paddled in the dwindling waters +of the Serpentine, the Round Pond, and the +ornamental lakes. As the long and joyless +day drew to its close, news came to Scotland +Yard that mobs had forced their way into +the private gardens of the large squares. It +proved to be true as regards Berkeley Square, +Grosvenor Square, Belgrave Square, Tavistock +Square, and many others. Temple Gardens +and Gray’s Inn Gardens also had been invaded, +but urgent messages for police protection were +only met with the answer that it was impossible +to spare the number of men required +for such a purpose. In Grosvenor Square, +indeed, a body of police did manage to clear<span class="pagenum" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</span> +the gardens of a gang of turbulent intruders, +after a violent resistance. To repeat the expulsion +in a score of other squares was quite +impracticable. It was an hour of alarm that +brought home to peaceable citizens the conviction, +long dawning, that a combined force +of Metropolitan and City police, which did +not exceed 17,000 men—and could provide +only about 5000 for duty every eight hours—was +absolutely inadequate to safeguard London +day and night in times of exceptional +disorder.</p> + +<p>The mob in various quarters had scored a +triumph. By the simple expedient of forcing +a lock or clambering over some low railings +it had gained possession of many acres of +fresh country. Well-mown grass and carefully +cultivated flower-beds were at their service. +Noisy revellers shouted indecencies in the +growing shades of evening. Unwashen and +verminous creatures in rags and tatters +sprawled on the garden seats and prowled +amongst the shrubs.</p> + +<p>In the parks fresh contingents arrived, and +jeered at the orders to clear out at closing +time. Under the trees they drank and shouted +in the gathering darkness. Here and there +bits of candles and matches were lighted, and +ribald laughter and drunken yells burst forth +at the sights the flickering flames revealed.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</span></p> + +<p>Rumour of what was going on brought +many persons to the Park, and among them +Herrick. Quite suddenly he ran up against +Henshaw the detective.</p> + +<p>“Nice game, isn’t it?” said the latter. +“This sort of thing’s going on all over the +place. I’ve just come down from Kensington +Gardens, and, if anything, it’s worse there +than it is here.”</p> + +<p>“Well, here comes a breath of air,” sighed +Herrick, baring his head to the faint puff that +rustled the leaves.</p> + +<p>“Yes, and from the south-west, too. It’ll +do us good if it brings the rain at last.”</p> + +<p>They sauntered on—they were on the south +side of the Serpentine—listening and looking. +Presently they reached a widened space.</p> + +<p>“Hullo! do you see that?” exclaimed the +detective, halting.</p> + +<p>“See it? Yes! What does it mean?”</p> + +<p>“Fire!”</p> + +<p>“A house?”</p> + +<p>“No, a tree. It must be in Kensington +Gardens. That’s what comes of this match +and candle business. If I’d had my way the +troops should have hunted the whole pack +of them out of this an hour ago.”</p> + +<p>“Look! look!” cried Herrick excitedly. +Westward a tongue of flame had shot into +the air, and then another, and another.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</span></p> + +<p>“My God!” said Herrick, horrified. Then +he set off at a run, the other keeping at his +heels. On every side recumbent forms were +scrambling to their feet. Oaths, obscene jests +and blasphemous shouts broke upon their +ears, and far and near sounded the shrill persistent +whistles of the constables. A lurid +light now illumined the western sky, and +here and there ahead of them great cones of +flame shot up, while huge columns of smoke +bent and spread before the rising gusts of +wind.</p> + +<p>The two men paused, exhausted for the +moment, letting the rush of dim and stumbling +figures eddy round them.</p> + +<p>“Kensington Palace must be on fire,” +panted Herrick.</p> + +<p>“If so the League’s at the bottom of this +business,” said the detective. “Hullo! you +there——”</p> + +<p>Away to the left in a bed of flowering shrubs +his quick eye had caught a stealthy movement. +Almost as the words escaped him +there was a little flame low down near the +ground. It revealed a glimpse of a white, +hot face, glistening with perspiration. The +cheeks were inflated, the mouth was blowing +at a little heap of straw, dried chips, and +leaves.</p> + +<p>“You devil!” shouted Henshaw; “that’s<span class="pagenum" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</span> +your game?” He dashed into the bushes, +but the incendiary was too quick for him. +He wriggled clear on the other side and was +lost to view in the wild on-rushing crowd.</p> + +<p>When they reached the road dividing the +Park from Kensington Gardens, it was seen +that the refreshment châlet just within the +rails of the gardens was burning fiercely. In +the midst of the crackling of the furnace +could be heard crash after crash of crockery, +as the piled cups and saucers, plates and jugs, +came tumbling from their charred and splintering +shelves.</p> + +<p>In the glare that lit up the broad roadway, +a maddened, half-intoxicated mob of Dancers, +breaking out into screams and maniacal +laughter, circled in full view of the burning +châlet, until the galloping horses of the fire +engines, approaching from the north, drove +them, still leaping and gyrating, southward +towards Kensington. Fire engines now approached +from every quarter, but it was +obvious that little could be done to save the +trees. Every thirsty bush served as a conductor +for the greedy element. The furnace +spread from bough to bough; below, the fire +fastened on fragments and twigs lying on the +parched surface of the grass, curling its way +snake-like to the nearest trunk; then, with +a sharp hiss, climbed to the lower branches,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</span> +licking them eagerly until, with one united and +terrific hiss, the brown and shrivelled foliage +combined to make a pyramid of fire. Tree +after tree became thus outlined in a mighty +burst of flame, then lapsed into smoke and +blackness, still revealed here and there with +glowing branches. Sometimes the fire commenced +its work high in the loftier foliage; +for now the upper air was filled with charred +and glowing embers borne north and eastward +by the rising wind. In the rush of sparks +and smoke above the swaying tree-tops, it +seemed as if the weird Valkyrie sisters rode +triumphant. Bushes and branches were +hastily torn down where possible, and bands +of people made frantic efforts to beat out the +fire ere it obtained an unconquerable hold.</p> + +<p>But deviltry was loose that night, and, +however the first fire may have been occasioned, +the distances at which new outbreaks +were discovered pointed conclusively to deliberate +acts. In all, seven men were seized—taken +red-handed in the act of causing separate +fires. Four of the prisoners wore the symbol +of the League.</p> + +<p>Towards morning, a heavy downpour of +rain extinguished the last sparks of the +conflagration. It had come too late to save +the trees, and all that the fire brigade had +been able to achieve was the preservation of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</span> +Kensington Palace from more than partial +destruction.</p> + +<p>Dawn crept, frowning, over the dreary scene, +the black ghost of its former beauty—a wilderness +of ashes; above which the charred +branches of denuded trees waved mournful +arms to greet the mournful day.</p> + + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</span></p> +</div> + +<h2 class="nobreak" >CHAPTER XVIII<br> +<small>ALDWYTH ASKS A QUESTION</small></h2> + + +<p>Less than thirty miles from the monster city, +now festering and malodorous under the +September sun, high in a breeze-swept garden, +Aldwyth Westwood, with a book upon her +knees, sat gazing at the fleecy clouds. Slowly +they sailed across the sky, casting deep +shadows on the fields and woods. Anon the +darkened tracts of country again were bathed +in brilliant sunshine, and, far as the eye could +reach, the face of Nature smiled.</p> + +<p>“Sunshine and shadow—in Nature and in +life,” she thought. A sigh succeeded—a sigh +that sprang like tears “from the depth of +some divine despair,” a girl’s tribute to the +burden and the mystery</p> + + +<p class="center p1 p1b">“Of all this unintelligible world.”</p> + + +<p>Here, if anywhere, near the summit of +Leith Hill, was a refuge from the outward +stress of life, a place of peace and quiet +breathing. Sir John had benefited greatly<span class="pagenum" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</span> +from the pure air and calm of the retreat. +The high gardens were a glory, and the +house—bought ready furnished from a wealthy +man’s executors—contained a well-stocked +library, in which the jaded refugee from +Parliament and Law Courts renewed with +some zest the varied reading of his earlier +years.</p> + +<p>Westwood was fifty-four—an age when, if +a man allows himself to think at all, the +length of life’s journey and its destination +are thoughts that recur to him with deepening +gravity. Behind him—the years that the +locust had eaten; before him—what? Great +numbers of men still feel young and vigorous +at fifty-four, and much later, but the fact +remains that it is the wrong side of the fifty. +To some, but to few, celebrity, success, promotion, +may come later; but if so, it lacks +the heart-flush of early triumph; in some +indefinable way the prize, so long fought for +and looked forward to, proves something less +than solid gold. Rewards tardily won savour +of a short lease—an annuity bought late in +life, an eleemosynary provision.</p> + +<p>At fifty-four the artist’s finest picture has +been hung; the author’s best book has been +published; the great surgeon has performed +his greatest operation; the great advocate +has scored the most brilliant of his forensic<span class="pagenum" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</span> +victories; the engineer has built his biggest +bridge; the parliamentarian, sick and savage +with hope deferred, then sees the biggest prize +of all eluding him, or, if it comes at last, it is +bestowed hesitatingly, not because of what +he is and can accomplish, but of what he was, +and tried to do, when at the zenith of his +powers.</p> + +<p>Westwood had been wonderfully successful, +as success is reckoned by the man in the +street; but success is only relative. You have +got something, but it sharpens the appetite +for the “little more,” and so the chase +continues.</p> + +<p>The prospect of a judgeship offered him +few attractions; <em>that</em> meant finality on five +thousand a year. His aims were higher, but +politically and professionally his position was +complex. The parliamentary situation, and +the state of parties and sub-parties, made +further progress, even if his health permitted it, +quite impossible for the time being. He was +alive to that, and conscious oftentimes that +probably he had already secured the best +that life was likely to offer him.</p> + +<p>What were his spoils? Abundance of this +world’s goods, the envy of hosts of less successful +men, and the affection——? He +paused at that; affection of whom? It was +not a pleasant thought that there were only<span class="pagenum" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</span> +two beings in the whole world genuinely attached +to him; an old and faithful servant, +a woman whose fidelity withstood the outbursts +of his petulance, and his daughter. +Aldwyth was fond of him—yes, he was sure +of that. But there was a lurking feeling that +she would have been fonder still if he had +only given her a chance. His cold reserve +had kept her at a needless distance. He had +denied her nothing that she asked for, but +he had volunteered little for which she had +not asked. He had shown no real concern +in her interests or pursuits. Yet he had +reason to know hers was a warm, impulsive +nature like her mother’s, quick to believe and +love, swift to be rebuffed and chilled. The +possibilities of closer intimacy were now +remote. Young Herrick, as was natural, +would have the first place in her thoughts. +Presently she would marry, and he, the +envied and successful man, would be—alone.</p> + +<p>Of that strange interview with Marcus +White, Aldwyth had told her father nothing. +The condition of his health forbade it at the +time; but now that the mysterious nervous +attack which had caused her so much alarm +seemed to have been wholly shaken off; now +that his step was firm and his colour healthier, +her mind was exercised as to her duty.</p> + +<p>Westwood, at his table, looked up as his<span class="pagenum" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</span> +daughter, with reflective face, walked past the +open window of the library.</p> + +<p>“Deep in thought?” he said, inquiringly.</p> + +<p>She stopped, and returned a pace or two.</p> + +<p>“I was wondering where we should go +when we leave here,” she answered.</p> + +<p>“Back to town,” her father replied, with +raised eyebrows; “but of course it won’t be +until the third week of October.”</p> + +<p>“The House won’t be sitting then, will it?”</p> + +<p>“No, but the judges will.”</p> + +<p>“Father,” she said impulsively, “need you +go back to the Bar?”</p> + +<p>“I need not, but I shall,” he answered +rather coldly. “Why do you ask?”</p> + +<p>“Is it—is it wise?” she stammered.</p> + +<p>“Wise!” he exclaimed, amazed.</p> + +<p>“Why need you do it?”</p> + +<p>“In the first place, I shall have to prosecute +those scoundrelly incendiaries, who have +already gone for trial.”</p> + +<p>“But, surely, that will be dangerous?”</p> + +<p>“For whom?”</p> + +<p>“For you, father; you know that you were +threatened.”</p> + +<p>“Threatened men live long,” he answered, +with a lightness that perhaps was a little +strained. “You surely would not have me +neglect an obvious duty because some unknown +blackguard sends me an empty threat?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</span></p> + +<p>“The threat may not be empty. At Folkestone +you told us others had been threatened, +that there was a real conspiracy, and if so——”</p> + +<p>“If so, one must do one’s duty all the same. +My health was broken down at Folkestone. +I was not myself. Why, my dear girl, if I +kept out of this case they would end by +calling me a coward. I should be virtually +driven into private life.” There was a pause.</p> + +<p>“Perhaps there is something I ought to +tell you,” she said slowly.</p> + +<p>“Well, what is it?”</p> + +<p>“When we were at Folkestone, and you +were ill, some one came to see you.”</p> + +<p>“Go on, go on”—impatiently.</p> + +<p>“His name was Marcus White.”</p> + +<p>Westwood made no comment, but his face +grew paler.</p> + +<p>“What he said was a sort of warning. I +was to tell you when I pleased—that you had +better give up everything—Parliament, the +Bar,—father, what does it mean?” She +advanced swiftly to the broad table on the +other side of which he sat, his eyes bent upon +the blotting pad and balancing a paper knife +between his fingers. “Won’t you tell me +what it means?” she repeated, entreatingly.</p> + +<p>“It only means that this man is an old +enemy of mine, and, it seems, one who does +not forgive or forget.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</span></p> + +<p>“But is there any reason—any ground? +If you never wronged him in any way—father, +say you never did!”</p> + +<p>“No, I never did”—the words were somewhat +laboured. “But I married your mother, +Aldwyth. That was the cause of quarrel.”</p> + +<p>“Ah!” she exclaimed; “he spoke of her. +Were they to have been married, if you——”</p> + +<p>“Something of the kind,” he answered, +rising, then turning to the window. “It was +many years ago; we need not talk of it.”</p> + +<p>“But he has not forgotten.”</p> + +<p>“No, it seems he has not forgotten.”</p> + +<p>“What shall you do?”</p> + +<p>“I think there is nothing to be done.” He +sat again, and drummed on the table with his +fingers.</p> + +<p>“Do you believe this man would really +harm you if he could?”</p> + +<p>“You saw him. You can judge as well as +I,” he said, evasively.</p> + +<p>“He must be mad.”</p> + +<p>“Mad with the long-nourished passion of +hate, mad with the long-cherished desire for +revenge—mad in that sense, yes.”</p> + +<p>“Then God help you, father,” said Aldwyth +solemnly.</p> + +<p>“Yes, God help me,” and he buried his face +in his hands.</p> + + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</span></p> +</div> + +<h2 class="nobreak" >CHAPTER XIX<br> +<small>THE LORD MAYOR READS THE RIOT ACT</small></h2> + + +<p>The Long Vacation having dragged its monotonous +length to a finish, the Courts re-opened +in the third week in October. The day was +dull, and dull foreboding seemed to oppress +the Temple, Lincoln’s Inn, and all the other +haunts of law. Fewer people, and less cheerful +than of yore, mustered in the Great Hall +to witness the customary procession of the +judges. The Lord Chief Justice bore himself +with dignity, but wore the marks of feeble +health. The other judges were ordinary, +estimable men. They had served their clients +and themselves with more or less satisfactory +results, and now discharged their monotonous +functions in a duly monotonous manner. The +nominal leader of the Bar—his Majesty’s +Attorney-General—was absent again through +illness, and the Solicitor-General, Sir John +Westwood—whose looks were criticised curiously—led +the army of the long robe. One<span class="pagenum" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</span> +and all, with silks and stuffs by way of tail +to the procession, the King’s justices passed +through the long hall of the florid Gothic +structure, that cost the nation a million and +a half of money, and still is in process of +absorbing millions more in salaries, fees, and +costs.</p> + +<p>The function was soon over, and then, in +the thousand chambers of the building, the +formal business of the day was dealt with. +Once again the pieces of machinery were got +into their appointed places. Once again the +creaking, cumbrous, monstrous thing began +to work. Amongst the unemployed members +of the Bar—which is to say, the majority of +barristers—there was much conjecture as to +the business outlook. The cause-list was +thin to the point of attenuation, but still +there was a list. But those who were interested +in criminal practice in the magisterial +Courts, and at Sessions and the Bailey, were +deeply concerned at the state of affairs which +the history of the past few months foreshadowed. +How far were the Leaguers going +to carry their supposed programme? What +was to happen if the British juryman failed +his country? Was it possible that our boasted +<em>palladium</em> was breaking down? Britannia +might need no bulwarks, but criminal law +could not get on without a fearless jury, to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</span> +say nothing of fearless witnesses, undaunted +by open or veiled intimidation.</p> + +<p>It was confidently believed that in his approaching +speech at the Mansion House, the +Prime Minister would make an announcement +of the first importance in reference to the +subjects that were agitating the public mind. +Since the great fire in Hyde Park, and the +committal of the seven accused men for trial, +the Leaguers had been comparatively quiet, +but their numbers and their funds had further +increased, and there were those who saw in the +present quiescence only the lull that precedes +a storm; merely an autumn pause before the +oncoming of a dark, tempestuous winter.</p> + +<p>The ninth of November brought with it +the accustomed features of that date, including +the presentation of the new Lord +Mayor by the Recorder at the Law Courts +in the inevitable speech, replete with pompous +stereotype. The Chief Justice took occasion +to comment on the increasing signs of popular +unrest, and various other indications of the +times, which made it of paramount importance +that the chief magistrate of the City of +London should possess very special qualifications +for his ancient and important office. +His lordship added that so far as his Majesty’s +judges were concerned, the country might be +well assured that the fabric of social safety<span class="pagenum" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</span> +would be resolutely maintained, depending +as it did on the vindication of justice and the +punishment of evil-doers.</p> + +<p>With that significant allusion to what every +one was thinking of, the civic party was +dismissed. The puerile pageant, traditionally +associated with the occasion, once more appealed +to the contempt of gods and men, +and the Lord Mayor’s show, having wound +its way home through the miry and melancholy +streets, was lost to sight in the foggy City.</p> + +<p>At the mayoral banquet in the evening, +the First Lord of the Treasury made his +eagerly expected speech, which, however, contained +nothing that had been expected on +the burning subject of the hour. The right +honourable gentleman was an oratorical acrobat +of no mean talent. He winged his flight +from trapeze to trapeze with marvellous +agility, turned oratorical somersaults at unexpected +moments, and came down on his +feet whenever it was expected he would +arrive on his hands. The whole performance +was extremely dexterous and carefully non-committal. +When the Prime Minister sat +down, of course there were thunders of +applause. Criticism of such speeches comes +on the following day. Less cautious, but +also well applauded, were the utterances of +my Lord Mayor. Inspired with the ambitions<span class="pagenum" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</span> +of the new broom, and encouraged by the +counsel of the Chief Justice delivered earlier +in the day, the unfortunate gentleman made +a doughty onslaught on the Leaguers, and +hinted at drastic action if any of them came +before him in the justice room.</p> + +<p>With a sense of having risen to the occasion, +the chief magistrate retired late to his couch, +fully confident that he had struck the right +note. But next day, when rising from his +bed with a slight headache and other symptoms +of discomfort, his lordship speedily discovered +that there was something wrong without, as +well as within. From an early hour small +groups of men were observed in the neighbourhood +of the Mansion House, whose gestures +and looks indicated no friendly feeling towards +its official resident.</p> + +<p>The Lady Mayoress, whose training had +been provincial, and whose nerves were flustered +by the responsibilities of her new position, +felt much alarm at the appearance and +manner of these men. One of them, moved +on peremptorily by the City police, was seen +to hurl a large stone, which crashed through +a window over the portico on the Walbrook +side of the Mansion House. The fellow was +promptly arrested and held prisoner, though +an attempt to rescue him on the part of his +associates almost proved successful.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</span></p> + +<p>Throughout the day there was much difficulty +in keeping the streets converging at the +Mansion House available for the normal traffic. +The streams of vehicles from Cheapside and +Queen Victoria Street here had to be regulated +so as to allow free passage for the other tides +of traffic ever pouring in from Cornhill, King +William Street, Threadneedle Street, and +Princes Street. Yet at this very pivot-point +of the congested City traffic, there were persistent +attempts to block the way. Again and +again the roadways had to be forcibly cleared +by the police, and several accidents occurred. +Removed from one position, groups formed +again at another, scowling defiance at the +constables who strove to keep them moving.</p> + +<p>For some hours after the first stone was +thrown there was no other overt act of violence. +But suddenly, as the sombre afternoon +was merging into darkness, a pistol shot was +heard. The report seemed to come from the +corner of Bucklersbury. The crash of falling +glass immediately followed, and over the head +of a group of people a revolver was tossed +high into the air and fell upon the shoulder +of a constable. Some eight or ten policemen +immediately made a rush in the direction +from which the weapon appeared to have +been thrown. A violent struggle ensued, in +the course of which several persons were<span class="pagenum" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</span> +severely injured, but the actual offender +escaped capture.</p> + +<p>A desperate attempt now was made to +clear the space on the west side of the Mansion +House, but the difficulty was enormous. +A great block of vehicles and foot-passengers +spread right across the end of Queen Victoria +Street and the Poultry. The mob could only +be driven southward or westward through +the two narrow necks of Walbrook and +Bucklersbury, and those thoroughfares were +so packed already that the attempt to clear +them was ineffectual. The position was rendered +doubly grave by the sudden arrival of +another body of police from Cloak Lane, with +the result that the people herded in Walbrook +found themselves attacked in rear as well as +in front. Those who sought to escape via +the short curve of Bucklersbury were driven +against another force of police at the Queen +Victoria Street end, behind whom was a phalanx +of omnibuses and cabs, wedged together, and +rendering escape impossible. Caught thus, +like rats in a trap, the crowd fought desperately. +The glass door of a stick and umbrella +shop, which had been insufficiently secured, +was forced by a band of Leaguers, and with +such weapons as the stock afforded the police +were furiously belaboured and forced to act +on the defensive.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</span></p> + +<p>At this crisis the electric lights flared out, +and those who were near the Mansion House +were able to discern the figure of a deformed +man standing on the parapet of the book-seller’s +shop behind which rises the tower +of St Stephen’s church. He was bare-headed, +and the blue light shone upon his grizzled +hair and strong, pale features. By a movement +of the arm he appeared to convey a +signal to the outskirts of the crowd where +Queen Victoria Street and the Poultry form +an angle. At any rate, as if by concerted +action, sudden volleys of stones rattled against +the north and west fronts of the Lord Mayor’s +residence, and a terrific crash of broken glass +immediately followed.</p> + +<p>Within the Mansion House itself, the Chief +Clerk, as adviser of the Lord Mayor in criminal +matters, had been in attendance for some +hours, and with great difficulty the City +Solicitor and the Town Clerk had also been +brought together to attend a conference. +The narrow passage at the rear of the building +was strongly guarded by police, and any +approach to it from the west had long been +impracticable. The legal officials and superior +police officers had obtained ingress <em>via</em> George +Street on the east, the entrance used being +that at which the “Black Maria” usually set +down its prisoners for the justice-room.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</span></p> + +<p>The Lord Mayor, pale and nervous, had +appealed for advice, and was told that the +police would soon be able to restore order; +but the organised volley which sent stones and +glass into the interior of the official residence +showed how futile was that expectation. It +was now hastily decided to read the Riot Act, +or, strictly speaking, the warning proclamation +which the Act contains. This Act—passed +some two hundred years before—is +intended to meet the case of tumults and +riotous assemblies. If twelve or more persons +remain assembled for one hour after the reading +of the proclamation, all are guilty of +felony. The offence formerly was punishable +with death.</p> + +<p>Not within the memory of living man had +the Riot Act been put into force in the City +of London, and for a moment a sense of +curiosity and expectation silenced the swaying +and excited crowd, when the Lord Mayor, +in robe of office, came forward, flanked and +supported by officials and police, to signal for +attention. The little group stood on the +stone terrace of the building facing north, +and his lordship’s voice sounded singularly thin +and weak as he began the proclamation, having +first held up his hand to secure attention:</p> + +<p>“Our sovereign lord and king chargeth +and commandeth all persons assembled immediately<span class="pagenum" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</span> +to disperse themselves and peaceably +depart to their habitations, or to their lawful +business, upon the pains contained in the +Act——”</p> + +<p>The rest was lost in a swift yell of derision +and defiance, and the concluding words, +“God save the King,” were quite inaudible +save to those who were around or immediately +below the speaker.</p> + +<p>The civic group now retired with such +haste that a great burst of laughter came +from thousands who observed the retreat. +It gave just that touch of humour to the proceedings +that saved the situation. The police, +marking the sign of better temper, stayed +their hands, and when it became known that +“God save the King” were the final words +of the proclamation that had been read, here +and there in the throng a voice started the +National Anthem, and vast numbers began +to chime in. It was discordant, but hearty, +and bore indisputable witness to the personal +popularity of his Majesty. The mob, perhaps, +had done all that it had intended to +do; but, at any rate, the crisis was passed, +and in less than the hour’s grace allowed by +the Act, the great crowd had marched away +in sections, leaving only the broken windows +of the Mansion House as evidence of the recent +onslaught.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</span></p> + +<p>It was not generally known until later that +a military force had been hastily got in readiness +to aid, if need were, the repressive action +of the police. The outcome, however, was, +in one sense, disastrous, for it led the authorities +to conclude that the worst was over; +a miscalculation that facilitated the moves +that followed in the daring campaign of the +Leaguers.</p> + + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</span></p> +</div> + +<h2 class="nobreak" >CHAPTER XX<br> +<small>THE LEAGUERS AT THE HOME OFFICE</small></h2> + + +<p>A shadow had fallen upon the engagement +of Herrick and Aldwyth Westwood. The +Westwoods were back in Hill Street, and +Herrick also had returned after a long yachting +cruise with his cousin, Lord Eastmere. +But although he went frequently to see +Aldwyth at Hill Street, and was disposed to +be more than ever a devoted lover, something +had come between them. It puzzled and +troubled him. He kept hoping from week +to week that the chill would pass away. He +hoped, so far, in vain. Aldwyth, of course, +was conscious that the chill existed. She +blamed herself, and tried to persuade her +heart that it ached for nothing more than +the rather ordinary tribute that a rather +ordinary young man had to offer; was not +it her plain duty to be happy in her engagement +and in the prospect of marriage that +lay not far ahead?</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</span></p> + +<p>But the fact remained that she was not +happy. Hers was a far more subtle temperament +than her lover’s. What satisfied him +left her with a sense of something wanting. +She found herself—somewhat to her own surprise—comparing +young Herrick with two +other men with whom she had been brought +in contact. One of these was Marcus White, +whose powerful personality had been vividly +remembered after that strange interview at +the Folkestone hotel. She had seen no more +of him, but his name was constantly whispered +in connection with the demonstrations +of the Leaguers; moreover, she could not +forget that there was, as her father had +confessed, an old-standing and ominous +antagonism between himself and this strange +man, who had told her that he knew her +mother. It was not that she had any definable +feeling for her father’s enemy, except +that his was a strong, exceptional, and interesting +personality. Thus he was often present +in her thoughts, and she had an intuitive +conviction that he and she would meet again.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile there was Father Francis—his, +also, was a personality that was powerfully +influencing her life and feelings. This priest, +ascetic in life as in appearance, in truth was +exercising an extraordinary, an almost hypnotic +influence over great numbers of women<span class="pagenum" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</span> +who belonged to West End society. At +every service at which he officiated, St +Stephen’s Church was packed. His sermons, +often appealing, but more frequently denunciatory, +were listened to with rapt attention +by crowded congregations. He, pre-eminently +among the clergy of London, had +shown an inspired capacity to deal with the +sins and sorrows of the times. He fiercely +attributed the latter to the former, and declared +that the greatest sinners in all the sinful +city were those—a multitude of men and +a still greater multitude of women—who +lived selfish, idle, and luxurious lives, untouched +with divine compassion for the masses, +and deaf to the prophetic warnings of evil +to come.</p> + +<p>From the nucleus of the congregation of +St Stephen’s, a new society of women, nearly +all of whom were delicately nurtured, was +called into being, and drew vast numbers of +adherents. It was called the Sisterhood of +the Kindly Life. There was no conventual +establishment and no monastic rule. The +sisters still lived in their own homes; they +were at liberty to marry, and they dressed, +if it pleased them, in the fashion of the hour; +but the vast majority discarded the finery +and ornaments which cost so much and had +once seemed so essential to their happiness.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</span> +A bonnet and cloak as simple as those worn +by hospital nurses became widely adopted +as the uniform of the Sisterhood. There were +no actual vows, but two injunctions were +solemnly impressed upon the Sisters by Father +Francis, as their warden—self-denial in everyday +life, and the service of others in every +way that each Sister’s circumstances permitted. +Every day each Sister was to perform +at least one act of kindness. Of this +Sisterhood Aldwyth Westwood became a member, +and, with others of the order, she found +much practical scope for helpfulness in ministering +to the great number of unemployed +men who in the early winter weeks marched +into London from great distances in the vain +hope of enlisting help from the ruling powers +in Church and State.</p> + +<p>These marches from provincial centres had +assumed most remarkable, and, indeed, dangerous +proportions. The great bulk of those who +joined in such demonstrations from the provinces +were sober, well-conducted, but unlucky +beings. Footsore and weary, they +tramped through the suburbs into London, +and were charitably provided for in halls and +schools, where the Sisters attended to their +wants; only to leave the capital after a few +days with no improvement in their prospects. +Long ago the foreigner had been allowed to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</span> +get a grip on our industries. So complex had +the position become that England could no +longer support her own sons on English soil. +Even the old soldiers, always numerous in +these provincial contingents—men who had +fought and bled for their country on far-off +battlefields, where pluck and endurance had +been lauded in the hour of triumph—were now +forgotten and unprovided for in their maturity +or old age. The bitter feeling engendered by +the failure of successive Governments to +grapple with the problem of the unemployed, +on statesman-like lines of national policy, now +bore fruit. For, while patient endurance was +the characteristic of most of the provincial +demonstrators, there was a considerable minority +ripe for resentful action against the +ruling classes. Great numbers of these men +having come to London, stayed there, and +the magnetism of a powerful organisation +attached them practically, if not admittedly, +to the forces of the League. The old soldiers, +in particular, were welcomed and well paid +on account of their experience in discipline, +and the qualifications which many of them +possessed for marshalling bodies of recruits.</p> + +<p>After the riotous proceedings at the Mansion +House there was a short respite; but when the +Leaguers next loomed prominently into public +notice, it was obvious that, instead of being<span class="pagenum" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</span> +more or less of a disordered rabble, their ranks +partook of the character of an organised force.</p> + +<p>Fearful of public disturbance on a more +extensive scale, the Government now arranged +for a postponement of the trial of the Hyde +Park incendiaries. A public application was +made at the Central Criminal Court and +granted as a matter of course. As soon as +this was known, the Leaguers showed their +hand. Five thousand strong, they marched +to Whitehall and peremptorily demanded an +interview with the Home Secretary. That +timid functionary was, or was said to be, +absent from the building, and a more courageous +official—an under-secretary—was put +forward to receive a deputation from the serried +ranks that filled the thoroughfare. Never +since an unhappy king stepped forth from +Whitehall Palace, to meet, in the face of an +awed and awful multitude, the death to which +he was condemned by regicides, had the great +street of England’s Government witnessed so +convincing a manifestation of popular power.</p> + +<p>The demand of the deputation was plain +and unmistakable. The prisoners awaiting +trial must be released. A like claim was made +on behalf of those who were still in custody +on various charges arising out of the riot at +the Mansion House. The under-secretary, with +carefully prepared notes in his hand, did<span class="pagenum" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</span> +his best to temporize. He was wordy but +indefinite. It was not in his power to interfere +with the course of justice. If a case for +special intervention could be made out in +writing it should be duly considered. The +clemency of his Majesty the King could only +be exercised in a constitutional manner on the +advice of the Home Secretary. The Home +Secretary, in a matter of such grave import, +would have to consult the whole body of +Cabinet ministers, but Ministers were out of +town. Meanwhile, if he could tender advice, +he would strongly urge the deputation to use +all possible influence in the interests of peace +and quietness——</p> + +<p>“Are you going to set ’em free?” roughly +interposed a shoemaker named Raggett, one +of the spokesmen—the same who had been +seen on the roof near the Mansion House.</p> + +<p>“I?—impossible!” stammered the under-secretary.</p> + +<p>Raggett turned his back contemptuously +upon the Government official, and held a +whispered colloquy with the other members +of the deputation. He was extraordinary, +alike in his physical deformity and in intellect. +He nourished, it was said, the bitterest hate +against the State, for having confined him, +improperly as he alleged, in a lunatic asylum.</p> + +<p>“Gentlemen——” began the under-secretary,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</span> +but his appeal for attention was unheeded. +Raggett and his colleagues finished +their whispered conversation, and without +another word or sign marched out of the +Government building. There was a call for +silence in the street, instantly obeyed, and +then the half-crazed shoemaker, mounted on +the topmost of a flight of steps, reported in a few +terse and savage sentences the failure of the +deputation. Revolutionary action invariably +brings to the front men who are prepared +to out-Herod Herod, followers who become +leaders, cranks who establish an ascendency +which no one could have foreseen at the outset +of the movement. Such a man was Raggett, +whose power with a large section of the +Leaguers was immediately manifested by the +response to the keynote of his brief harangue. +A sullen growl arose from those nearest to the +demagogue; it spread and swelled in volume, +until, from the great concourse stretching +southward along Parliament Street, and northward +towards Trafalgar Square, a terrifying +roar of wrath went up from some five thousand +throats. It rose and fell, and rose again, +reaching its culminating savagery when suddenly +each Leaguer raised both arms above +his head. Then, as at a signal, ten thousand +fists, many grasping cudgels and other rough-and-ready +weapons, were shaken in the air.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</span> +This united menace, that seemed to include +the Home Office, the Treasury, Downing +Street, and the very Houses of Parliament, +was terrible in its volume and intensity.</p> + +<p>So appalling was the tumult, and so electrifying +the excitement, that the horses of the +troopers in the Horse Guard Shelters reared +and plunged forward into the close ranks of +the Leaguers who were standing on the pavement. +Shouts of anger and fear now rent +the air. One horse slipped upon the flagstones +and threw its rider heavily among the crowd. +The other, entirely beyond the trooper’s control, +tore wildly through the fleeing mob +towards Westminster.</p> + + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</span></p> +</div> + +<h2 class="nobreak" >CHAPTER XXI<br> +<small>THE DEVIL’S OWN ON THE DEFENSIVE</small></h2> + + +<p>The acute alarm now felt in Government +circles led to a hasty decision to embody a +large auxiliary force of special constables. A +source of much anxiety was found in the +rumoured designs of the Leaguers on certain +important buildings connected with the Law. +The Temple church, and the halls and libraries +of the Inns of Court, both north and south of +the Strand, were believed to be in jeopardy, +and arrangements were made with the Inns +of Court Volunteers to protect the prized and +ancient buildings from attack or incendiarism. +Both within and without the Law Courts a +strong force of police was kept on duty day +and night, and London solicitors furnished +from among their number a large contingent +of special constables to safeguard the Law +Society’s hall and library in Chancery Lane.</p> + +<p>Even these precautions were not such as +to satisfy the urgent demands of the timid<span class="pagenum" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</span> +“better classes” in London, and a cry was +raised for more troops. At this juncture, however, +the Secret Service agents of the Government +were sending in reports that negatived +the possibility of reducing the military strength +of outlying districts, and pointed to the paramount +necessity of maintaining efficiency and +vigilance at the naval ports and arsenals. It +was beyond question that at this critical +moment of domestic history there was a subtle +shifting of international cards that was fraught +with danger to the country. A revived Russia, +it was well known, only waited an opportunity +to wound or humiliate Great Britain. The +German Emperor, while adroitly masking his +real attitude, was believed to be anxious to +test the metal of his strengthened navy. +Against what country other than Great Britain +could the ceaseless activity in the German +dockyards be directed? Armoured cruisers, +of about 15,000 tons; battleships of from +17,000 to 18,000 tons, with armour ever +thicker and guns ever more powerful! All +this increased tonnage, sanctioned under the +German Navy Act of 1900, meant an expenditure +of something like £800,000 upon +a single battleship. In 1906, £12,000,000 had +been expended on Kaiser William’s navy; in +1912, at this rate, German naval expenditure +would have climbed to £16,000,000. And,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</span> +in the interval, or after, what appalling test +of strength and watchfulness might not be +put upon the navy of Great Britain?</p> + +<p>France, though disposed to be friendly, was +fettered by treaties with other Powers; and +Japan, whose fleets were no longer confined +to Eastern seas, was by some suspected of +having a secret understanding with Russia, +her former enemy, that involved ultimate +designs upon Britain, her present ally. That +alliance had not proved so advantageous to +the youngest of the Great Powers as the +Mikado’s government had expected it to be. +The shilly-shallying of successive British ministers +had at last disgusted the Japanese. +Those hardy, patient, and self-controlled Eastern +islanders, steadily increasing their marvellous +powers, while the islanders of the West +were showing marked signs of physical and +moral deterioration, had no intention of submitting +to a one-sided international bargain. +Japan knew her own strength on the high +seas, and now prepared to use it ultimately, +anywhere and against all comers for her own +advantage. Russia had not forgiven and +never would forgive the disasters and defeats +inflicted on her navy and her troops, but +Russian revenge can bide its time. Meanwhile +there were grudges of far older standing +against Great Britain, and if, while the treaty<span class="pagenum" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</span> +of peace with Japan held good, the Japanese +would help the new Czar to inflict an indirect +injury on England, it was fairly certain +that any opportunity would be eagerly seized.</p> + +<p>A sinister circumstance, in this connection, +was the undoubted fact that the new navy +built or bought by Russia was largely officered +by men who had been trained and instructed +by Japanese experts. A few years before, it +would have been deemed inconceivable that +a Russian should have submitted to tutelage +from the once despised “little yellow men.” +But the bitter lessons of experience had made +their impression even in Russia. The deep-seated +desire for restored prestige and power +outweighed the national pride; and the +Japanese, on their part, were not unwilling +to make certain Russian ships and crews +efficient for naval warfare, provided such +ships remained thousands of miles from Japan +and her possessions in the East. Thus it had +come about, in the whirligig of time’s revenges, +that Japan, which had learnt her naval lessons +from Great Britain, and had splendidly carried +them into practice against Russia, was now +supposed to be Russia’s secret guide, philosopher, +and friend in inculcating the art and +science of naval warfare.</p> + +<p>These, however, were matters of which the +British public in general had but little knowledge.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</span> +For them the shoe pinched nearer +home. So dangerous and uncertain were the +conditions of life in London, that hosts of +prosperous people, who had returned in the +autumn, hoping that the tyranny would be +over, left town again with their families when +it was discovered that the winter months might +hold something yet worse in store. But these +departures, numerous as they were, made but +a small gap in the enormous aggregate life of +the capital. Scores of thousands, or hundreds +of thousands might go, but millions remained, +and must remain; for here was their lot cast; +here in the misery and murk of the season of +fog and slush and drizzle the railroad of life +was laid down for them, and to leave the +rails was hopeless and impossible.</p> + +<p>With the idea of calming the apprehensions +of residents and tradesmen, and at the same +time in the hope of overawing the Leaguers, +the civil and military authorities now organised +a patrol of the streets by bodies of police +and special constables. At the same time it +was noticed that musters and marches of the +regular troops and volunteers were of frequent +occurrence. It was in connection with +the renewed activity of the “Devil’s Own” +that Herrick now had an exciting personal +experience of the perils of the times.</p> + +<p>The unexampled slump in legal business<span class="pagenum" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</span> +had left him, and great numbers of his brother-barristers, +with next to nothing to do. Many +of them, in common with himself, had received +threats under the sign of the spider, but so +far there had been no actual fulfilment of the +warning. It was noticeable, however, that +fewer men in wig and gown were seen in the +streets in the vicinity of the Law Courts, and +those who did wear their forensic armour +were sure to encounter gibes and insults from +some contemptuous tongue. Events were to +prove, however, that in the first place the +Leaguers were maturing their plans to fly at +higher game than the ordinary stuff gownsman.</p> + +<p>So altered were the relations between himself +and Aldwyth Westwood that Herrick, +wisely, perhaps, had deemed it best not to +worry her with continued remonstrances, or +requests for explanations. The times were +out of joint, but the shadow could not last +for ever, and his temperament led him to +believe that all would yet be well. Meanwhile, +his zeal as a volunteer officer was +reawakened by concurrent events, and the +occupation that drills and marches afforded +him was very welcome.</p> + +<p>On a memorable afternoon, about a week +after the Leaguers’ demonstration at Whitehall, +the “Devil’s Own” were mustered for +a march. Groups of officers and men stood<span class="pagenum" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</span> +talking in Stone Buildings, Old Court, and +New Square, waiting for the complement of +rank and file. The men came in from various +directions—some by the archway from Carey +Street, some through the passage at the south-west +corner of New Square, others from the +various Chancery Lane approaches. Herrick +himself turned in at the large west gateway. +Thus it was that he noticed that a muster +of another character was at the same time +taking place in Lincoln’s Inn Fields, probably +as preliminary to another and formidable +street demonstration on the part of the +Leaguers.</p> + +<p>Herrick immediately made a report to his +commanding officer, and from observations +then taken it was seen that the Leaguers were +assembling rapidly and in great force. They, +on their part, noted the muster of the volunteers, +and presently sundry jeers and insults +were shouted at the citizen soldiers. Groups +of men, who were seen to be wearing the +metal disc, gathered close to the open gates +and watched the formation of the battalion. +The possibility of a collision at once became +apparent, for it was intended to march the +volunteers through Lincoln’s Inn Fields, and, +<em>via</em> Long Acre, to the West End. There was +no other exit from the Inn suitable for marching +order in the intended direction; and, on<span class="pagenum" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</span> +the other hand, it was pretty obvious that to +cross Lincoln’s Inn Fields would certainly +involve a collision with the Leaguers, whose +numbers already largely exceeded those of +the battalion. The disc-men, growing more +aggressive, now showed a disposition to enter +New Square itself, and a hasty council of +officers was held, and the order given to close +the gates. Instantly angry groans were raised +by the Leaguers, and a shrill voice yelled: +“Down with the lawyers!” At the same +time a rush was made for the wall separating +the gardens from the east side of the Fields, +and, with no great difficulty, large numbers +of the Leaguers clambered to the top and +descended on the other side. In this way +the flank of the battalion was menaced by +a gathering mob. In effect, it looked as if +the volunteers were now on the defensive, +and derisive laughter greeted the hurried +orders of the officers.</p> + +<p>Mortified and puzzled at this development, +the colonel decided to march immediately. +As soon as this was realised, a crash of timber +was heard, and it became known that the +Leaguers were tearing down the hoarding that +enclosed the foundations of an extension of +the Land Registry buildings close at hand. +The levelled hoarding at once exposed to +view great balks of timber, ladders, and stacks<span class="pagenum" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</span> +of pickaxes and shovels. It was an unexpected +armoury, ready to hand, and the +Leaguers immediately availed themselves of +its resources. Several heavy pieces of timber +and ladders were now dragged towards the +Lincoln’s Inn archway, triumphant and excited +cries bursting from the mob. The next +moment these improvised battering-rams were +brought to bear with terrific violence upon +the gates and brickwork. The unarmed contingent +that had scrambled into the gardens +urged on their comrades with wild applause, +and hurled defiance at the humiliated battalion. +“Rats! Rats in a trap! Down +with the lawyers!” burst hoarsely from a +thousand throats. The colonel turned pale +as death, and his horse, terrified by the uproar, +plunged dangerously in proximity to +his men. Above the din, the order, “Open +the gates!” was shouted. But, before it +could be obeyed one of them came crashing +to the ground. The other was torn aside, +and the Leaguers and the “Devil’s Own” +stood face to face. There was a pause. +Then, hurtling through the air, came a pavior’s +rammer, followed by a stonecutter’s mallet, +and two privates with anguished faces limped +out of the ranks of the volunteers. At the +same instant the growing force of Leaguers +on the flank made a determined effort to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</span> +tear up the iron railings bordering the +grass.</p> + +<p>“Fix bayonets!” roared the colonel angrily. +A howl of rage went up from the Leaguers; +then, suddenly, as if at the crack of doom, +every voice was silenced, every face was +blanched. The thunder of a great explosion +filled the air, followed by crash on crash, and +multitudinous reverberations.</p> + + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</span></p> +</div> + +<h2 class="nobreak" >CHAPTER XXII<br> +<small>THE BOMB BRIGADE</small></h2> + + +<p>The appalling explosion which checked the +impending conflict between the volunteers +and the Leaguers, causing the latter to melt +away from Lincoln’s Inn and rush in surging +hordes in the direction of Clerkenwell, was +the most terrible outrage that had yet befallen +the alarmed capital. It was not without +precedent; indeed precedent was, in some +respects, carefully followed by the organisers +of this desperate attempt to release the +imprisoned incendiaries. Nearly fifty years +earlier the prison wall had been blown down +for a somewhat similar purpose by a desperate +gang of Fenians. The effect of that diabolical +outrage on the policy of Mr Gladstone is +matter of history. On that occasion many +houses in Corporation Lane were partially +wrecked, four persons were instantly killed, +and some forty others were maimed or injured +in various degrees. The immediate object<span class="pagenum" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</span> +of the prisoners, however, was not attained, +for, though a considerable breach was made +in the prison wall, none escaped.</p> + +<p>On the present occasion the damage to life +and limb was somewhat less; only two were +killed, and thirty-one injured, but the destruction +to property was far more extensive +than before. The latter fact was, to some +extent, explained when it was ascertained +that there had been in reality two explosions, +different in character, but rapid in succession.</p> + +<p>Early in the afternoon all the prisoners had +been taken into the prison-yard for exercise, +as usual. Raggett, one of the alleged incendiaries +(son of the half crazy shoemaker), +was observed to fall out shortly after a small +indiarubber ball was thrown over the wall. +The ball was supposed to have been thrown +by a street boy, and a warder threw it back, +not dreaming that it was in reality a pre-concerted +signal. Raggett was ordered to +join the ranks, but made some excuse about +a nail in his boot hurting him, and obstinately +kept aloof.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, on the other side of the wall, +two men, having the appearance of chimney-sweeps, +and whose faces were covered with +soot, were observed in the act of wheeling +a hand-truck on which was a large barrel. +Fitted in the barrel was a funnel, or tundish,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</span> +which undoubtedly held a fuse. The supposed +chimney-sweeps, having wheeled the +truck rapidly but carefully to a selected +position in close proximity to the prison wall, +suddenly deserted it, and disappeared immediately +and without question in the adjacent +slums. A few people, moved by a +fatal curiosity, stopped and gazed at the +truck; and a policeman, noticing first the +loiterers and then the barrel, approached +slowly, and perhaps with some suspicion. +Before he could reach the spot, a terrific flame +burst from the ignited gunpowder, and with +a rending crash a large section of the prison +wall fell outward into the street. The unfortunate +constable, struck on the temple by +a broken paving-stone, fell dead, and by his +side a woman, whose face was covered with +blood, stumbled with outstretched arms into +the gutter and lay there prostrate. Bricks, +stones, and fragments of masonry fell in all +directions, beating down the shrieking, panic-stricken +people as they fled through the adjacent +streets. Crash after crash followed, +as the walls of other buildings tottered and +collapsed; then, as a crowning climax of the +outrage, another distinctive detonation came +from the Sessions-house, designed, no doubt, +to distract attention from the prison. It +served, unquestionably, to facilitate the escape<span class="pagenum" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</span> +of Raggett and three of his fellow-prisoners, +who scrambled over the fallen masonry and +got free before the dazed and stupefied warders +could realise what was happening. Two warders +and three prisoners lay wounded and +bleeding in the prison-yard.</p> + +<p>In the neighbouring Sessions-house at the +time there were only three cleaners and a +man who was employed as usher when the +Court was sitting. This man subsequently +described what he saw. Awed by the gunpowder +explosion and the nerve-destroying +sounds that followed it, and ere he had time +to rush into the street, he suddenly heard a +crash of broken glass, as some hard object +was hurled through one of the windows of +the Court. As it fell on the floor a blue flame +shot into the air; there was an ear-splitting +report. The building seemed to rock, huge +beams gave way and fell, and every window +with its framework was blown outwards. +A cloud of dust and powdered mortar filled +the air. The women lay huddled and screaming +in a heap, and the usher, with a gash in +his cheek caused by splintered wood, staggered +back against the wall, gazing helplessly upon +the shattered seat of justice.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>In the midst of the welter that followed +the foregoing catastrophe, the Cabinet, at a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</span> +hastily-summoned meeting, at last decided +on something in the nature of drastic action. +Since the suppression of the Leaguers, for +the time being at any rate, was quite impossible, +it was resolved to raid the offices +of the <em>Epoch</em>, which had become more and +more revolutionary in its articles, and was +held by the police to have indirectly incited +the recent outrage. It certainly was significant +that this very moment was chosen for +publication of a sketch of the career of Jack +the Painter, who was extolled by the <em>Epoch</em> +as a hero and martyr for his attempts to +destroy certain of the royal dockyards in the +time of the American war with the mother +country. The <em>Epoch</em> dwelt on the brutality +of the punishment dealt out to this man, +who was convicted at Winchester in 1777, and +sentenced to be executed at the gate of +Portsmouth dockyard. There the wretched +man was drawn up by pulleys to a gibbet +sixty-four feet high, made of the mizzenmast +of the frigate <em>Arethusa</em>, higher than Haman +hanged on the gallows he had meant for +Mordecai. His body afterwards hung in chains +at the entrance to the harbour for several years. +This, and many another barbarous punishment, +said the <em>Epoch</em>, was ruthlessly carried +out in the sacred name of Justice. “Let +Justice be purified by the shedding of blood—an<span class="pagenum" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</span> +eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, exacted +by a counter-claim which no statute of limitations +should avail to bar.”</p> + +<p>Further articles containing like passages +were found ready in type when the police in +great force made a sudden descent on the +offices of the journal; but, apparently, the +contingency had been anticipated. No resistance +was offered by the staff, but after +only a day’s interval the <em>Epoch</em> reappeared, +published at another printing-office, and +printed this time in blood-red ink.</p> + +<p>The Christmas holidays were drawing near; +and, impressed by the lamentable condition of +his province, the newly-created Archbishop of +London issued a pastoral, which was read from +hundreds of pulpits to the assembled congregations. +His lordship called upon all faithful +children of the Church to keep the approaching +Bank holiday, not as a day of feasting +and pleasure, but as one of solemn prayer and +national humiliation, to the end that the +divine mercy might be vouchsafed and the +tyranny of the time be ended speedily. He +reminded Churchmen that, though too much +ignored, the 26th December was the great +commemoration-day of the first Christian +martyr—Stephen, a man full of faith; Stephen +who fearlessly denounced a stiff-necked generation, +uncircumcised in heart and ears, rebels<span class="pagenum" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</span> +against the Just One, of whom they had been +the betrayers and murderers. Christians, so-called, +said the Archbishop in this modern +time were not less betrayers and murderers of +the Just One. They had received the law by +the disposition of angels and had not kept it. +“Because there is wrath, beware lest he take +thee away with his stroke; then a great +ransom cannot deliver thee.”</p> + +<p>This episcopal admonition made a deep +impression. At St Stephen’s Church in particular +special services were arranged, and a +great street procession was organised for the +approaching Bank holiday. But while the +pastoral counsel was adopted in many of +the metropolitan churches, a spirit of rebellion +sprang up in other quarters, and there was +much resentment at what was described as +an act of ecclesiastical dictation. The publicans, +in particular, were furious at the idea +of their custom being diminished on one of the +great drinking days of the Christian year. In +all these past months of stress and trouble +the trade had reaped huge gains from the +disorder that prevailed. The swing-doors of +their Temples of Bacchus at nearly every +street corner were never still. Men and women +thronged the showy bars; they drank, and +drank again, the flaring lights shining on their +dulled eyes and sodden faces. They talked,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</span> +maundered, shouted choruses, quarrelled, +fought; the beer engines poured forth unending +streams into innumerable “pewters” +and the money poured into the tills. Humanity +sank deeper and deeper into the slough of +despond and the slime of self-indulgence; and +the brewers and publicans reaped their rich +reward as licensed purveyors of poison for +the people.</p> + + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</span></p> +</div> + +<h2 class="nobreak" >CHAPTER XXIII<br> +<small>THE CRANKS’ CORNER</small></h2> + + +<p>In the sombre days of December a double +gloom settled down upon the sacred precincts +of Mayfair. But little incense was being +heaped on the shrine of luxury and pride. +The fire of fashion burnt low, smouldering +and smoky beneath the lowering clouds. +Even Billy of Mayfair, who was usually as +light of heart as he was agile of leg, felt the +oppressive influence of things. His friend +Joe had become an absolute pessimist for the +time being, and even had high words with the +wife of his bosom concerning the proposed +baptism of his third-born child. Then Mrs +Joe craftily enlisted the aid of Father Francis. +Joe had a reasonable respect for the clergy, +and a still profounder reverence for the peerage. +Father Francis, he knew, was the Duke +of Portsdown’s son; he had been to Dorking +for an excursion, and had some acquaintance +with the ducal grooms. So, though he<span class="pagenum" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</span> +showed fight, he touched his bare forehead, +quite prepared for a theological crusher, +though not necessarily to be convinced.</p> + +<p>“Look ’ere, sir,” said Joe, “what’s the good +of it, that’s wot I want to know. Wot’s the +blessed good of pouring a little water on a +baby’s ’ead?”</p> + +<p>It was an inspiration that enabled Father +Francis to give the very answer that appealed +to Joe.</p> + +<p>“Well, my friend,” said he, “we’ve all got +to obey somebody’s orders, haven’t we?”</p> + +<p>“That’s right enough,” agreed Joe, tightening +his belt.</p> + +<p>“Well, our Lord commanded it.”</p> + +<p>Joe brightened instantly; it simplified +the position wonderfully.</p> + +<p>“Blest if that ain’t the best answer I’ve +’eard,” said the stableman cheerfully. And +the child was called Francis Joseph—not +after the Emperor of Austria, of whom the +parents knew nothing, but after the curate +in charge of St Stephen’s Church, and Joseph, +the infant’s father.</p> + +<p>It was about this time that Billy also began +to feel that Father Francis was a friend, +though he still avoided church and schools, +just as he had learnt to dodge the school +attendance officer and Policeman X. In +summer weather he had spent most of his<span class="pagenum" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</span> +Sundays in the Green Park which was close +at hand, or watching the wild-fowl on the +ornamental water of St James’s, but about +noonday on these winter Sundays, he might +generally be found at the Cranks’ Corner +in Hyde Park, listening with more or less +wondering looks to the wild and whirling +words of the competing speakers. Here, +on the battleground won for free speech in +many a contest with authority, the cranks let +off the steam according to the measure of +their crankiness. The pitches were so close +together that the groups of listeners almost +blended, and an auditor quick of hearing had +presented to him a sort of mosaic of oratory +that was, to say the least, bewildering. One +speaker would be raving against the worthlessness +and wickedness of vaccination, while +another volleyed and thundered against the +Education Act. But, mostly, the changes +were rung on Religion, Atheism, and Socialism. +Each cult had its champion every Sunday. +There was a crank who had his own peculiar +interpretation of the Book of Revelation, +undertaking to tell his hearers what was signified +by the beasts with many eyes, the vials +of wrath, and the sealing of the servants of +the Lord. He knew who were the horned +kings of the Apocalypse, or, at least, some of +them,—the Kaiser, the Czar, and the Mikado.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</span> +He knew, or thought he did, all about the +battle of Armageddon, that terrible conflict, +transcending in its terrors every bloody war +that men had waged on earth. The war of +Michael and his angels against the dragon and +his angels, “who prevailed not, neither was +their place found any more in heaven. And +the great dragon was cast out, that old serpent +called the devil and Satan which deceiveth +the whole world.”</p> + +<p>“And where was the great dragon sent?” +cried the speaker, “and where had he been +at work ever since? ’Woe to the inhabitants +of the earth and of the sea: for the devil +is come down unto you, having great wrath, +because he knoweth that he hath but a short +time.’ Perhaps they didn’t think it was +a short time,” said the speaker, who could +be shrewd and logical at times, “but time +must not be measured by the little span of a +man’s earthly life. What was a thousand +years in the boundless depths of eternity? +And why need there be so much talk about +eternity when time itself was so immeasurable—the +time of the geological periods, the +time of the solar system,—unthinkable, like +the distances from star to star.</p> + +<p>“And yet some people,” the speaker went +on, “said that it was all a fable; that there was +no such being as the Prince of Darkness. If<span class="pagenum" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</span> +men looked around they would see plenty +of his handiwork. If there were good spirits, +why shouldn’t there be evil spirits; spirits not +all alike in power or characteristics, but rank +and file, with leaders and commanders—Satan, +Beelzebub, Moloch?” Then he quoted +from <em>Paradise Lost</em>:—</p> + + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"><p>“First Moloch, horrid king, besmear’d with blood<br> +Of human sacrifice, and parents’ tears,<br> +Though for the noise of drums and timbrels loud<br> +Their children’s cries unheard, that past through fire,<br> +To his grim idol.”</p> +</div> +</div> + +<p>And Billy, amongst others, heard and +trembled. It was a comfort after that to +hear another preacher yonder telling his +hearers of One in whose presence the devils, +believing, could not but tremble; of One who +cast out devils from the souls of men and +boys; who loved to have the children round +Him, and rebuked those who would have +kept them from Him.</p> + +<p>When Billy found that this same lover of +men’s souls was put to death by those whom +He had sought to serve, that the Jews had +shouted “Crucify Him!” and the Roman +soldiers had nailed Him to a cross, the boy’s +heart was hot within him, and his eyes were +wet with tears. He had met with many +Jews—the dirty, unkempt Jews of Petticoat +Lane and Whitechapel, and the rich Jews<span class="pagenum" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</span> +of the West End, heavy of nose and watch-chain, +silk-hatted, frock-coated, owners of +splendid horses, which Joe cleaned down in +the mews. And in his childish imagination +there sprang up a strange, fantastic picture +of a mixed and savage mob of these Jews of +modern times assailing with cries and blows +their lonely and forsaken King.</p> + +<p>“I don’t like them Jews,” he said one day +to his friend Joe.</p> + +<p>The stableman rubbed his bullet-head reflectively.</p> + +<p>“There’s good Jews and there’s bad ’uns,” +he remarked, as one speaking with authority, +“just the same as there is in t’other lot. +When a Jew’s good, he’s uncommon good. +When he’s a bad ’un, he’s a cove as can +get the blood out of a stone; he’s a chap +as’ll squeeze ye dry, like that there sponge”—throwing +one into his zinc bucket. “And, +mark my word, Billy, there’s plenty of +Christians as’ll do the same. Six of one +and half a dozen of t’other, that’s what +it is, my lad.”</p> + + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</span></p> +</div> + +<h2 class="nobreak" >CHAPTER XXIV<br> +<small>THE LOWER CRITIC</small></h2> + + +<p>All the week there had dwelt in Billy’s +mind that, to him, new and terrible story +of the murdered King of the Jews. On Sunday—a +bleak, dull day, when the charred +trees in the Park stood out grim and black +against the heavy sky, he hopped across to +the Cranks’ Corner, hoping to hear more; +but this time there were other voices and +other subjects for the crowd. He saw two +faces above the clustering people. One +speaker was a man whom he had heard before, +but failed to understand; the other was +Father Francis. The man unknown to the +boy by name was Raggett, the rabid social +democrat. Even without the torrent of his +venomous invective, attention would have +been arrested by his appearance.</p> + +<p>Stiff black hair stood up on his oddly-shaped +head; and the face, behind a bristly grey +moustache, reminded Billy of a savage half-Persian<span class="pagenum" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</span> +cat that haunted Hill Street mews. +The man was fluent, and his high-pitched +voice almost rose into a scream as he declaimed +his speech to a band of Leaguers +mixed with a miscellaneous mob.</p> + +<p>“Yes, that’s what the parsons tell you!” +he yelled, derisively. “You’ve to bless the +squire and his relations, and always keep +your proper stations. That’s Christianity in +the country, and it’s pretty much the same +up here in London. They’ll tell you a lot +about the many mansions up in heaven. +Well, we don’t know about that. We haven’t +seen ’em; but we know right enough about +the mansions here below. The only mansions +they provide for you and me are the workhouse, +the prison, or the asylum. The rich +men keep the others for themselves. There +are some pretty good mansions over yonder +beyond the Marble Arch, and there are plenty +more, and fine ones too, along Park Lane. +We don’t get invitations to dinner, do we? +But there is plenty of food there, and good +wine, and spirits and beer for their cursed +stuck-up servants; and rich furniture, and +soft beds to sleep on, too; and jewels and +precious things of all sorts. Oh! they do +themselves pretty well, depend on it. But +why don’t they share out a bit? Not they! +Hold fast!—that’s their motto. And it is the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</span> +same with the land. Don’t believe ’em when +they say there isn’t room in England. There +is room, but they won’t let you have it. They +want the land for their parks and gardens; +they want the woods for their pheasants and +their sport. The working-man may slave in +their fields all day, and sleep in a hovel at +night; and if he gets tired of it and comes to +London, it’s the slum or the doss-house that’s +his portion. That’s good enough for him. Oh +yes, Holdfast is a good dog; but I’ll tell you +something—Grab’s a good dog too!”</p> + +<p>He paused, almost breathless, and there +was a dull mutter of assent throughout the +crowd. Above the angry sound the clear +voice of Father Francis was heard, a voice +of delicate timbre, in striking contrast with +the raucous tones of the demagogue. It was +the first time he had come amongst the +cranks as a competitor for notice, and he had +only done it after great misgiving concerning +his own powers and the utility of trying them +under such conditions. Yet, he asked himself, +what right had the clergy of England +to shrink from the ordeal? Why should the +men under whose lips was the poison of asps, +why should the blasphemer, be allowed to hold +the field? If the people would not come to +the church, ought not the church to go to the +people? Was not the Master Preacher of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</span> +all time an open-air preacher. Was not the +greatest of all sermons preached from the +hill-side to the common people, who heard +Him gladly? The fields of corn, the trees, +the flowers, the common objects of the country-side, +had ever furnished simple but convincing +themes for One who spake as never spake +mortal man before or since. No, he <em>would +not</em> be a coward! So the young priest put +his Bible under his arm and walked across +Park Lane to the Cranks’ Corner. Was discretion +always the better part of valour, or was +it really a synonym for cowardice? He went +with no idea of entering into argument or +controversy with others. He knew that amid +much mendacity there was blended not a +little truth, though perhaps partial and perverted, +in some of those inflammatory speeches. +No one knew better the sins of his own order. +He himself, in his younger days, like Augustine +of old, had drunk deep of the knowledge of +evil. Like Tannhäuser, he, too, had lingered +in the Venusberg, and gone back to it again +and yet again; but ever in his ears—sometimes +near and sometimes from afar—had +sounded the wonderful chant of the pilgrims; +the rhythm of their steadfast march always +reproached him; until, suddenly, shame and +remorse had wrought a miracle, and, stumbling +and mistrustful of himself, he joined the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</span> +pilgrims’ ranks, and understood the music +of that mighty march as he had never done +before.</p> + +<p>Here, on this unique spot in London, men +were always pouring out their own ideas, +intoxicated with the exuberance of their own +verbosity; but he himself had resolved to try +another plan. What could he, or any man, +offer better worth hearing than the words of +the book under his arm, which contained the +lively oracles of God Himself!</p> + +<p>He knew he should not meet any of the +Higher Critics in the Park. The German professors +and the English divines, who sit comfortably +in their book-lined studies and pen +presumptuous onslaughts on the faith once +for all delivered to the saints, work their +mines of infidelity from a safe distance. These +theological dynamitards do not come into +the open with their bombs. Their machines—not +less infernal—take the form of neatly +bound volumes on the bookstalls, sold at +popular prices, handy to explode the faith +and hope of thousands of their fellow-creatures, +leaving them torn and mangled in soul upon +the rocks of desperation and despair. But +the Lower Critics, he knew, found in the Park +their happy hunting-ground. Why should +they have it all their own way in Christian +England?</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</span></p> + +<p>“<em>And the Spirit and the bride say, Come. +And let him that heareth say, Come. And let +him that is athirst come. And whosoever will, +let him take of the water of life freely.... And +if any man shall take away from the words of +the book of this prophecy, God shall take away +his part out of the book of life, and out of the +holy city, and out of the things that are written +in this book.</em>” That solemn record gave him +courage. So, standing up beneath the murky +sky, with the din of the traffic on one side +and the screaming voice of Raggett the Raver +on the other, Father Francis, pale but calm, +read aloud some passages from one of the +oldest and most wonderful books in the Bible. +How marvellous was the contrast between +the words of the iconoclast and the words +echoing down from the far-off centuries to +the fool who had said in his heart, “There is +no God!”</p> + + +<p>“<em>No doubt ye are the people, and wisdom +shall die with you!... But ask now the +beasts, and they shall teach thee; and the fowls +of the air, and they shall tell thee: Or speak to +the earth, and it shall teach thee, and the fishes +of the sea shall declare unto thee. Who knoweth +not in all these that the hand of the Lord hath +wrought this? In whose hand is the soul of +every living thing, and the breath of all mankind.</em>”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</span></p> + +<p>Raggett was speaking again. “If we don’t +look after ourselves,” he shouted, “who do +you think is going to help us? Tell me +that!”</p> + + +<p>“<em>With him is strength and wisdom</em>,” read +the priest, “<em>the deceived and the deceiver are +his. He leadeth counsellors away spoiled, and +maketh the judges fools. He looseth the bonds +of kings, and girdeth their loins with a girdle. +He leadeth princes away spoiled, and overthroweth +the mighty. He discovereth deep things +out of darkness, and bringeth out to life the +shadow of death. He increaseth the nations +and destroyeth them. He enlargeth the nations, +and straiteneth them again.</em>” ...</p> + +<p>“Yes,” roared Raggett, harping on his +theme, “when they talk to you about heaven, +tell them heaven helps those that help themselves. +You’ve got to make your own heaven, +and now’s your time to do it!” ...</p> + + +<p><em>” But ye are forgers of lies, ye are all physicians +of no value. O that ye would altogether +hold your peace! and it should be your wisdom.... +Will ye speak wickedly for God? and +talk deceitfully for Him? Will ye accept His +person? Will ye contend for God? Is it good +that He should search you out? Or as one man +mocketh another, do ye so mock Him?”</em> ...</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</span></p> + +<p>“... Seeing’s believing, to my mind, +and possession’s nine points of the law....”</p> + + +<p>“<em>Who is this that darkeneth counsel by words +without knowledge? Gird up thy loins now +and I will demand of thee, and answer thou +me. Where wast thou when I laid the foundations +of the earth? Declare if thou hast understanding +... whereupon are the foundations +thereof fastened? or who laid the corner-stone +thereof, when the morning stars sang together, +and all the sons of God shouted for joy?... +Or who shut up the sea with doors when it brake +forth.... And said, Hitherto shalt thou come, +but no further, and here shall thy proud waves +be stayed? Hast thou commanded the morning +since thy days; and caused the dayspring to +know his place?... Have the gates of death +been opened unto thee? or hast thou seen the +doors of the shadow of death?</em>” ...</p> + +<p>Raggett had paused and was glaring at +the priest over the heads of the people. +“There’s a lot of texts going about,” he +said, pointing. “I’ll give you one: ’Down +with them, down with them, even to the +ground!’”</p> + +<p>A surging murmur of approval ran through +the crowd, and menacing faces were turned +towards Father Francis. His calm, clear<span class="pagenum" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</span> +voice went on, and only two red spots glowing +on his pale cheeks showed that he was even +aware of the pointing finger and the savage +faces.</p> + + +<p>“<em>Canst thou bind the sweet influences of +Pleiades, or loose the bands of Orion?... +Knowest thou the ordinances of heaven? Canst +thou set the dominion thereof in the earth?</em>” +He paused a moment.</p> + +<p>“<em>Shall he that contendeth with the Almighty +instruct Him? he that reproveth God, let him +answer it.</em>”</p> + +<p>Raggett’s arm was raised, but he faltered. +Nearly all the faces were turned towards the +man at whom he had pointed, and the crowd +was strangely still.</p> + +<p>Father Francis shut his Bible, and stepped +down.</p> + + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</span></p> +</div> + +<h2 class="nobreak" >CHAPTER XXV<br> +<small>MARCUS WHITE GIVES ORDERS</small></h2> + + +<p>On the twenty-first of December the Law +Courts “rose” for the Christmas vacation. +It was the end of the gloomiest and slackest +term within the memory of living lawyers. +The abnormally disturbed condition of social +and business life had reacted on the whole +profession, in both its branches. Suitors +shunned the Courts; jurymen persistently +absented themselves in spite of threats and +fines; witnesses would not come for love, +money, or subpœnas; and here at the Royal +Courts, as at the Bailey, case after case broke +down for want of evidence. The whole +machinery of the law was out of gear. The +outrage at Clerkenwell gave rise to anxious +fears lest it should be repeated in the chief +Palace of Justice, and day and night strong +relays of police, concealed as far as possible +from sight, kept vigilant observation and +guarded all approaches to the building. Nearly<span class="pagenum" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</span> +half the detective force of Scotland Yard was +employed on this special duty, for it was +known that the leader, or leaders, of the +League felt special enmity against all officials +and professional followers of the law; while +some believed that here, at the centre of the +legal system, in some dark way a deadly +attack might be expected.</p> + +<p>Such was the critical condition of affairs, +and so grave, in particular, the problem of +repressing crime and protecting life and property, +that all the judges of the King’s Bench +Division were officially requested to remain +in town, or near to it, during the vacation. +Communications of an urgent character +reached the Chief Justice from the Lord +Chancellor and also from the Home Office. +Eager questions and wild surmises were +whispered on every side by members of the +Bar, but no one seemed to know what was +going to happen, and, apparently, least of +all his Majesty’s Government.</p> + +<p>Herrick, as he sauntered down the great hall +towards the Strand, was overtaken by his old +informant, Henshaw, whom he had only occasionally +seen since the Hyde Park conflagration.</p> + +<p>Henshaw touched his hat. “A merry +Christmas, Mr Herrick.”</p> + +<p>“Looks like it, doesn’t it?” said the +young man, gloomily.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</span></p> + +<p>“I expect we’ll be worse before we’re +better,” opined the detective.</p> + +<p>“What are they going to do?”</p> + +<p>“Lord knows, sir. Everything’s at sixes +and sevens. But one thing’s pretty certain—we +shall soon be in the dark.”</p> + +<p>“What do you mean?”</p> + +<p>“The gas-workers are coming out on strike, +and the electric-lighting men are pretty sure +to follow suit.”</p> + +<p>“I suppose these cursed Leaguers are at +the bottom of it?”</p> + +<p>“Ah! ask their General—that’s what they +call him among themselves—though they do +say some of his men have got so out of hand +he can’t stop ’em now, even if he wants to. +That man Raggett, for one; why, he’s as +mad as a March hare, and he means to let +hell loose on London before he’s done with +it.”</p> + +<p>“Is Marcus White really their so-called +General?”</p> + +<p>Henshaw nodded, and glanced round to +see that no one overheard them.</p> + +<p>“Is he in London?”</p> + +<p>“Certainly he is, living as bold as brass +not five minutes’ walk from here. He’s got +a great flat down at the end of Surrey Street, +overlooking the Embankment.”</p> + +<p>“Then, man, why, in heaven’s name, don’t<span class="pagenum" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</span> +you lay him by the heels?” said Herrick, +vehemently.</p> + +<p>“Ah! why don’t we? I’ll tell you. Because +the Home Secretary is afraid of the +music; and there are other reasons, too. +We can’t prove anything against him, and +he is stronger than we are, just at present; +and if we did get him, no jury would dare +find him guilty. What’s more, Mr Herrick, +no counsel would dare stand up in Court to +prosecute him—unless you would,” he added.</p> + +<p>“Indeed, I would,” said Herrick, grimly.</p> + +<p>The detective stood back and looked at +the young advocate’s face. “I believe you,” +he said, admiringly. “Well, you won’t get +the chance, I’m afraid.”</p> + +<p>“Perhaps that depends on the police.”</p> + +<p>“We’re nearly done; I know that. Mortal +men can’t stand the worry and the work of +it day and night, and everybody swearing at +us all the time. They’ll have the Force on +strike if this game lasts much longer—then +God help London!” He nodded and passed +on; but returned again. “I’ll tell you one +thing,” he said, in a lowered voice: “There’s +going to be a meeting here”—he jerked his +head towards the Courts and offices behind +them—” all the K.B. judges.”</p> + +<p>“Ah! I knew <em>that</em>,” said Herrick.</p> + +<p>“To be sure; your friend Sir John Westwood<span class="pagenum" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</span> +would know. He’ll have to come too, +of course. And there’ll be a good many +more.”</p> + +<p>“Who else?”</p> + +<p>“All the police magistrates, the Clerkenwell +and Middlesex judges, the Recorder and +the Common Serjeant, and our boss, the +Chief Commissioner.”</p> + +<p>“A multitude of counsellors!”</p> + +<p>“And not much wisdom, I expect,” was +the detective’s comment.</p> + +<p>“When do they meet?”</p> + +<p>“Christmas Eve—the 24th. Good-night.”</p> + +<p>They parted at the southern entrance, and +Herrick walked over to the Temple, pondering. +He still had in his pocket the threatening +missive he received at Folkestone; but though +ever since then he had had a sense of being +shadowed, no actual evil had yet befallen +him. It was not so, he knew very well, with +many others who had been similarly warned. +Disasters of various sorts had overtaken them—street +assaults, mysterious accidents by +day, and onslaughts by masked robbers in +the night. He had a feeling that he himself +had not been spared through oversight, +but by design.</p> + +<p>Not far away from Paper Buildings, to +which he took his way rather from habit +than because he had anything to do there,—in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</span> +a big room overlooking the river, there +sat a man who could have told him all +about it.</p> + +<p>In the appearance of Marcus White a +marked change had been wrought since Herrick +had left him at the Folkestone hotel. The +swarthy look had given place to a peculiar +pallor; the veins stood out upon the temples, +and beneath his eyes were purple shadows. +But the eyes themselves still burnt with the +fire that had so impressed Aldwyth Westwood +five months ago.</p> + +<p>The firelight played upon his face, as he +sat with head thrown back, his eyes seeming +to study the scroll-work on the handsome +ceiling.</p> + +<p>A foreign-looking man who stood a few feet +away waited patiently for his attention—a +man whose sun-tanned, wind-roughened skin +told plainly of the sea. His style of dress +confirmed the impression, and there were +sailor’s earrings in his great red ears.</p> + +<p>“You understand?” said Marcus White, +his gaze coming down to the man’s face.</p> + +<p>“Yes, General, but——”</p> + +<p>“There is no ‘but.’ You understand?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, General.”</p> + +<p>“Everything is on board?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, General.”</p> + +<p>“You can trust your men?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</span></p> + +<p>Pedro showed his white teeth in what +was intended for a smile. The answer was +sufficiently convincing.</p> + +<p>“Steam is to be kept up day and night, +in case you are wanted.”</p> + +<p>“That will be so, General; but—pardon—if +one might know when we are likely to clear +out of the river?”</p> + +<p>“On the twenty-fourth, after dark—probably +about this time”; he glanced back +through the great blindless window at the +darkened sky. “It will be dark enough?” +he asked.</p> + +<p>“Quite dark enough, General.”</p> + +<p>“What is the weather likely to be?”</p> + +<p>“One must expect squalls at this time of +the year, General; but your quarters will be +well protected, and you do not fear the sea, +though in a boat like that——.” He paused +significantly.</p> + +<p>Marcus White stared into the fire. The +other waited awkwardly, then said:</p> + +<p>“All shall be ready when it suits you to +come aboard, General.”</p> + +<p>“I stay here.”</p> + +<p>The man’s surprise was manifest.</p> + +<p>“But, my General, I understood——”</p> + +<p>Marcus White waved his hand. “There +will be other passengers.”</p> + +<p>“Where are they to be landed, General?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</span></p> + +<p>“You will come here for sealed orders on +the twenty-fourth, at noon.”</p> + +<p>“Sealed orders? Yes, General, but when +am I to open them?”</p> + +<p>“When you sight the Channel Islands.”</p> + +<p>A questioning look came to the man’s face, +but there was a glint in the eyes of Marcus +White that checked him.</p> + + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</span></p> +</div> + +<h2 class="nobreak" >CHAPTER XXVI<br> +<small>THE CAPTURE OF THE JUDGES</small></h2> + + +<p>The weather had suddenly turned to bitter +cold, and, in spite of prevailing alarms, every +one had something more or less obvious to +say on the unfailing subject. Disaster may +impend, kingdoms may totter to their fall, +but through all the steadfast Briton harps +on the text of the barometer. “Dry and +much colder; freshening north-easterly wind,” +was the record of the morning, and the afternoon +abundantly confirmed its truth. His +Majesty’s judges, for the most part elderly +gentlemen, and necessarily leading sedentary +lives, felt, and liked not, the eager, nipping +air. They reached the Law Courts in the +dusk of the afternoon for their projected +conference, feeling not a little ill-used that, +on Christmas Eve of all days in the year, such +a conference should be needed.</p> + +<p>Most of them drove by roundabout routes +to the judges’ entrance in Carey Street;<span class="pagenum" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</span> +others deemed it safer to approach on foot, +and entered the great building either east +or west, from Bell Yard, or Clement’s Inn. +None but the police were using the great +main entrance in the Strand, which had been +closed and strongly guarded ever since the +rising of the Courts for the vacation. The +street scenes of the past few days, and the +threatening conduct of the people towards +those who drove in private carriages or motors, +had produced a notable effect upon the traffic. +Many of the omnibuses had been taken off +the streets. Numbers of the cabmen, long +discontented with their lot, had joined the +Leaguers, and people who did hire a hansom +or four-wheeler had to submit to what the +driver considered the fare should be in the +special circumstances of the moment. But +the Strand, like other main thoroughfares, +was thronged with foot passengers, roadway +as well as pavement, and any sort of wheeled +traffic could only be carried on under slow +and apologetic conditions. All of which +tended to prevent punctuality on the part +of the functionaries of the law, and to increase +their sense of hardship and uneasiness. The +Law had so long ridden rough-shod over the +people, that it seemed especially surprising +that things were taking such a different turn.</p> + +<p>By a quarter past four, however, all but<span class="pagenum" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</span> +three of the judges and magistrates and +Sir Robert Hill, Chief Commissioner of Police, +had arrived, and in the big room selected +for the discussion, scattered groups stood in +earnest conversation on the urgent questions +of the hour.</p> + +<p>It was a memorable gathering. The Master +of the Rolls was supported by all the Lords +Justices of the Court of Appeal. The +Lord Chief Justice had as his judicial +satellites a dozen judges of the King’s Bench +Division—all, in fact, save those who were +incapacitated by serious illness. Both the +Judges of the Probate, Divorce, and +Admiralty Division were present, and also +those important but lesser lights of the +law, the three City judges, and the +Chairmen and deputy-Chairmen of Sessions +for the Counties of London and Middlesex. +The Lord Mayor had been invited to attend, +but a serious nervous disorder from which he +had suffered ever since the riotous scenes at +the Mansion House on the tenth of November, +made his presence impossible. Twenty of +the stipendiary magistrates from the Metropolitan +Police Courts had come in obedience +to the summons, two having recently died, +and the others being confined to their beds +through illness.</p> + +<p>Sir John Westwood, who was known to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</span> +have been suffering from insomnia, stood, +haggard and silent, by one of the windows, +while Lord Malvern expounded to him and +a few others his personal views as to the +drastic measures required to meet the crisis. +His lordship was of opinion that the King, +who unfortunately still lay ill at Windsor +Castle, should be advised to summon a special +session of Parliament for the purpose of +passing an Act for the suppression of the +League, after the precedent adopted many +years earlier in dealing with the Land League +in Ireland.</p> + +<p>“I doubt whether we want more legislation, +my lord,” said Westwood. “But we do need +a stronger executive.”</p> + +<p>“I agree with Sir John,” said one of the +group—Mr Justice Wigham, a man of downright +type and resolute manner. “The plain +fact is that the civil power has broken +down. When that happens order can only +be restored by the military arm.”</p> + +<p>“Hear, hear!” chimed in several; for +the group was now growing larger.</p> + +<p>“Kitchener would be the man, if he were +back from India,” said the Master of the +Rolls.</p> + +<p>“He is back, my lord; he arrived yesterday; +but he’s ill,” said the Solicitor-General.</p> + +<p>“Everybody’s ill,” observed Mr Justice<span class="pagenum" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</span> +Barling. “Illness has its advantages at the +present time. I think I shall be ill myself.” +The pleasantry was received with coldness.</p> + +<p>The learned judge was known to be a +judicial joker of an inveterate type, but his +brethren of the bench considered there was a +“time for all things.” Similarly, Mr Harrowden, +the well-known merrymaker of the +magisterial bench, talking to some colleagues +at the other end of the room, received no +encouragement when he essayed to launch +a little witticism and support it with a +laugh.</p> + +<p>“Order, order!” exclaimed the Chief +Justice, raising his voice. “This is quite +unseemly.”</p> + +<p>“My brother Barling shouldn’t set such a +bad example,” whispered Mr Justice Hartmill +to his neighbour.</p> + +<p>“Things are pretty bad, but I suppose +you know there is a possibility of something +worse behind?” The speaker was Sir +Gwilliam Ranthorn, a well-known judge, +amongst whose excellent qualities a discreet +reticence could not be numbered. “I had it +on excellent authority,” said his lordship.</p> + +<p>“Had what?” asked some one.</p> + +<p>“Why, Germany is working at the wires, +as usual. All this domestic disorder in England +is being utilised abroad. Don’t be<span class="pagenum" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</span> +surprised at anything you hear within the +next few days.” He nodded wisely.</p> + +<p>“Of course we’ve all heard rumours,” said +Sir George Wigham, rather bluntly. “But +even if they mean war, England can’t be +attacked without some reasonable pretext.”</p> + +<p>“A pretext, if you like, but not necessarily +a reasonable one,” returned Sir Gwilliam, +warmly. “When will their army be stronger; +and hasn’t the Kaiser got all the ships he +wanted while we’ve been twiddling our +thumbs?”</p> + +<p>“That is not the worst of it,” chimed in +Sir Borrall Carnes, who, as President of the +Admiralty Division, knew more about shipping +and seamen than all the rest. “German seamen +swarm in our mercantile marine, and +German pilots can do as they please with +hundreds upon hundreds of British vessels.”</p> + +<p>“It’s monstrous! It’s madness!” declared +Sir Gwilliam.</p> + +<p>“Yes, yes,” assented the Chief Justice. “I +am disposed to endorse all you say. But +that’s the business of the Admiralty and the +Board of Trade. We, as guardians of civil +order, and bound to preserve the King’s +peace, must confine ourselves to our proper +functions.”</p> + +<p>As his lordship ended, the electric light +went out, and loud exclamations were followed<span class="pagenum" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</span> +by a curious silence, broken in +a moment by the voice of Mr Justice +Barling. “Why are his Majesty’s judges +like the heathen?” he was asking. From +a shadowed corner came the prompt reply +of Mr Harrowden: “Because they sit in +darkness.”</p> + +<p>“Lights, please; lights of some sort,” +demanded Lord Malvern, testily.</p> + +<p>Alert attendants soon procured them—lamps +and candles, always in readiness for +an emergency, were brought in and placed +on the great baize-covered table. At a sign +from the Chief Justice there was a general +move to the surrounding chairs.</p> + +<p>“The business of the meeting must not +be delayed any longer,” said his lordship, +looking round before he took the presidential +chair. “Probably all who were summoned +are now present?”</p> + +<p>“All but Sir Robert Hill,” said an attendant, +who had checked the arrivals at the +door.</p> + +<p>“It is very desirable that the Chief Commissioner +should be here,” remarked the +Master of the Rolls.</p> + +<p>A knock came on the door, and the attendant, +opening it, had a whispered conversation +with some one who could not be seen from the +table. The attendant looked round: “My<span class="pagenum" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</span> +lord, Major Rollin, one of the Assistant Commissioners, +is here.”</p> + +<p>“Let him come in,” said the Chief Justice, +dropping wearily into his chair.</p> + +<p>The Assistant Commissioner advanced into +the room, and it was noticed by all that, +though self-possessed, he was extremely pale.</p> + +<p>“I regret to say, my lord, that Sir Robert +cannot possibly be here.” The judges exchanged +glances. Major Rollin hesitated a +moment, and then continued: “The fact is, +we have had a very urgent message over the +wires from Windsor. A large demonstration +of the Leaguers is being organised near +the Castle, and every man that we can +spare must be despatched there. The Chief +Commissioner is now making the necessary +arrangements. Your lordship will perhaps +excuse me?”</p> + +<p>The Assistant Commissioner bowed and was +gone almost before his hearers realised to the +full the ominous information he had given +them.</p> + +<p>At that moment the telephone bell began +to ring. The face of the attendant, as he +listened to the message, was watched by all +with some anxiety.</p> + +<p>“Well?” demanded Sir Gwilliam. “What +is the message?”</p> + +<p>“Apparently from the Home Office, my<span class="pagenum" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</span> +lord—One moment. Yes?”—listening—” Very +well.” Then turning towards the +table: “They wish to communicate with +the Lord Chief Justice.”</p> + +<p>Lord Malvern rose at once and went across +to the instrument. “Well, what is it? Yes—I +am Lord Malvern. What? Now—immediately?” +The hum and buzz of the +machine continued, ringing the changes of +question and answer in the usual fashion. +Then his lordship came back to the table, +looking very grave.</p> + +<p>“Matters of great urgency have arisen, and +our presence is desired immediately to confer +with the Lord Chancellor and the Home +Secretary, who are busily engaged on affairs +of State. I am to request all who are here +to accompany me at once.”</p> + +<p>“Where?—to Downing Street or Whitehall?” +asked several voices.</p> + +<p>“To the House of Lords—the Home Secretary +is there with the Chancellor at this +moment.”</p> + +<p>“Westminster!—easier said than done,” +murmured one of the judges.</p> + +<p>The telephone bell rang out again, and +once more the Chief Justice hurried to the +instrument and listened. “Yes, I hear. Do +you say at the Temple Pier? What vessel?—the +<em>John Milton</em>? Yes.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</span></p> + +<p>He turned to his anxious colleagues. “It +is considered unsafe and impracticable to +drive to Westminster, but a paddle-steamer—the +<em>John Milton</em>—has been sent to the +Temple Pier to convey us to Westminster. +Come, gentlemen, we are the servants of the +State and there is no time to lose.”</p> + +<p>And no time was lost. All rose from their +seats, pushing the chairs back in noisy haste. +Very few of those present had taken off their +overcoats, owing to the coldness of the room. +Hasty messages were given to the attendants +for the coachmen who were waiting in Carey +Street, and in a few minutes, split up into +small parties, the whole judicial company +emerged by various doors on the Clement’s +Inn side of the building. They hurried across +the crowded, turbulent Strand, with a few +constables acting as an escort, and made their +way, some <em>via</em> Essex Street, and others through +Arundel Street, to the Temple Pier. A cutting +wind greeted them on the Embankment, and +scattered snowflakes heralded a coming storm.</p> + +<p>The hiss of the escaping steam was heard, +and the masthead light, with here and there a +lantern on the decks, showed them the outline +of the <em>John Milton</em>, lying alongside the pier, +her bow towards Westminster.</p> + +<p>“I thought the County Council had sold +the <em>Milton</em>.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</span></p> + +<p>“Well, here she is, and the sooner we’re +on board and out of this the better,” said +one of the magistrates as they hurried down +the steps.</p> + +<p>The captain was already on the bridge, +and one of his great earrings gleamed in the +faint light of a lantern. “All below, please,” +he called out sharply.</p> + +<p>One of the seamen led the way to the +saloon, and in a few moments the complement +of passengers was completed. The rattle of +the movable gangway was heard, as the men +upon the pier withdrew it; then, as the paddle +wheels slowly began to revolve, the taut ropes +strained and throbbed ere they were thrown +loose. The doors of the saloon were closed.</p> + +<p>“Prisoners for the first time in our lives. +They’ve turned the tables!” ventured Mr +Justice Barling, but no one took any notice +of the joke. The sway of the steamer and +churning of the water told them that she was +clear of the landing stage. But presently +looks of inquiry and surprise were exchanged +amongst the passengers. “By Jove! Westwood,” +said one of them, “they’ve put the +boat about!”</p> + +<p>Sir John Westwood rushed to the doors of +the saloon and tried to open them. The doors +were locked and barred.</p> + +<p>“Great Scott! we’re heading for London<span class="pagenum" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</span> +Bridge!” exclaimed some one else. “What +does it mean?”</p> + +<p>They made a dash to the portholes and +tried to open them; but they were fixed and +firm.</p> + +<p>The clang of a well-known signal from +bridge to engine-room reached their ears. +“<em>That</em> means ’full speed ahead!’” said the +last speaker; and they stood aghast and +helpless as the <em>John Milton</em> raced down the +river towards the open sea.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>At his window, overlooking the Embankment, +Marcus White was watching. A grim +smile played across his features as the lights +of the steamer rushed eastward, and soon +were lost to view in the black and bitter +night.</p> + + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</span></p> +</div> + +<h2 class="nobreak" >CHAPTER XXVII<br> +<small>THE BLACK CHRISTMAS</small></h2> + + +<p>The elements ignore, and thus subdue, the +rage of men. Wind alone would not have +cleared the streets, but wind and snow together +drove loiterers and roisterers alike to +shelter. And in the midst of the snowstorm +Henshaw’s prediction was fulfilled. The lighters +of London—the men at the gasworks and +electric lighting stations—threw down their +tools; the lamplighters “struck,” and presently +a great horror of darkness fell on the +distracted citizens. The hours went on, and +the snow still fell, deadening the sounds of +night, muffling the city in a mighty shroud. +This gradual hush of London seemed to +many far more appalling than its familiar +roar.</p> + +<p>But towards midnight, here and there, +custom asserted itself, in spite of adverse +influences, and the church bells reminded +residents, at any rate those in the central<span class="pagenum" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</span> +districts, that this, in very truth, was Christmas +Eve.</p> + +<p>Over the broad squares south of St Pancras +the deep-toned bells chimed out the ancient +hymn:</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> +<p>“Glad tidings of great joy I bring<br> +To you and all mankind.”</p> +</div> +</div> + +<p>Yet darkness and distress weighed on the +silent dwellings, and the “shining throng” of +angels that once appeared to Eastern shepherds +brought no message to the British +Babylon, nor showed a glimmer of their +glorious wings. The last chime died away; +and soon the snowfall ceased. Then London +slept, or tried to sleep, till, once again, after +a long night of moaning wind, wan daylight +stole across the white-draped roofs. Once +more the bells were heard, but this time not +in chimes; and through the streets, upon the +frozen snow, dim muffled figures hastened to +the churches. Mostly these worshippers were +girls and women—courageous keepers of the +Christian feast! Thus was it aforetime in +that mysterious Easter dawn, when a woman, +first of all,—a woman of the town—came +hurrying to the Holy Sepulchre.</p> + +<p>It was not till the grey dusk of the afternoon +that the first warning of most portentous +happenings reached the ears of London +citizens. Suddenly shrill-voiced newsboys<span class="pagenum" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</span> +came yelling through the gloom; and then +the croaking note of hoarse-toned men was +heard—at first far off; then nearer, nearer, +coming and going through the streets and +squares.</p> + +<p class="center p1 p1b"><em>Epoch! Epoch!! Epoch</em>, <span class="smcap">Special!!!</span></p> + +<p>Puzzled faces peered from behind blinds, +and eager people rushed out to their doorsteps.</p> + +<p class="center p1 p1b"><em>Epoch! Epoch!</em> <span class="smcap">Special Edition!</span><br> +<br> +<span class="smcap">German Fleet off Plymouth!</span><br> +<span class="smcap">Portsmouth Dockyard on Fire!</span><br> +<span class="smcap">Hostile Squadron in North Sea!!!</span></p> + +<p>Thus, on the anniversary of the day that +centuries ago had brought the glorious greeting, +“Peace on Earth,” came the dire news +that England’s foe, the Prussian Eagle, at +last was going to make the long-intended +swoop. The bugles sounded over land and +sea, “War, son of hell” was loose—</p> + +<p class="center p1 p1b">“Contumelious, beastly, mad-brained war.”</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>It seemed incredible! Talk of invasion +there had been from time to time, but long +immunity had made men disbelieve in such +a possibility. In like manner it had seemed<span class="pagenum" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</span> +inconceivable that such upheavals as had +recently convulsed many a continental town +could be repeated here in England. Yet +London was bearing reluctant witness to the +fact.</p> + +<p>And now—</p> + + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> +<p>“There is a sound of thunder afar,<br> +Storm in the South that darkens the day,<br> +Storm of battle and thunder of war.”</p> +</div> +</div> + +<p>Would English hearts respond this time to +the old war-song? Would English grit once +more avail to hurl back the advancing enemy?</p> + +<p>Even now, in many minds, after the first +shock of such intelligence, there was a disposition +to discredit it as based on exaggerated +or sensational reports. Yet here in +black and white the <em>Epoch</em> gave the circumstantial +story. In brief, it was as follows:</p> + +<p>German spies had discovered, or pretended +to discover, an intrigue between the Duke of +Saxe-Cobourg Gotha and the British Government. +The Duke’s sympathies, as well as +the ties of relationship, it was said, allied him +to the royal house of England. English by +birth, and Prussian only by adoption, on succeeding +to the Duchy this grandson of Queen +Victoria had found his position one of exceptional +difficulty. Political controversy in +the Duchy had been revived or manufactured. +The Premier had found occasion to resign,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</span> +and rumours of a stormy interview between +the Kaiser and the Duke had got abroad.</p> + +<p>At the same time the Emperor, whose navy +had now attained most formidable proportions, +found himself checkmated by Lord Downland +in respect of a long-cherished German scheme +for acquiring Madeira from the Portuguese. +It was supposed to be a purely commercial +project, but the British Foreign Secretary +knew better. The island of Madeira, lying +only four hundred miles from Morocco, and +not remote from England, possessed much +to recommend it in German eyes. It +was, in truth, a Naboth’s Vineyard. The +owners of Madeira could not only cultivate +the vine, but they could find plenty of +accommodation for a coaling station for the +German navy. All of which was well understood, +though politely disguised, in diplomatic +circles. Lord Downland’s management of +the situation had been supplemented by the +invaluable influence of his royal master, with +whom the King of Portugal and the King of +Portugal’s ambassador at St James’s had a +complete and cordial understanding. From +all of which it came to pass that, like Ahab +of old, the monarch of united Germany was +vexed in spirit. A powerful German fleet +appeared one day off Lisbon, but nothing +untoward occurred. The surprise visit was<span class="pagenum" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</span> +not a lengthy one, and the great engines of +destruction—battleships, armoured cruisers, +and destroyers—vanished as suddenly as they +had arrived, in the enfolding mists of the +Atlantic.</p> + +<p>Then over the cables came intelligence of +the indisposition of the Kaiser, and of a projected +sea voyage as the remedy recommended +by the royal physicians. The excellent advice +of the faculty was promptly followed. +The magnificent Hamburg liner, <em>Schiller</em>, was +made available for his Majesty’s accommodation, +and the cruise was said to afford +opportunity for testing certain remarkable +improvements in turbine engines, which +keenly interested the Emperor.</p> + +<p>Nor was this all. The Kaiser’s influence +with the new Emperor of all the Russias had +become quite paramount, and concurrent +rumours of a combined movement of Imperial +squadrons in the North Sea had added +to the already serious uneasiness of the +British Lion. The Eagle and the Bear were +on the pounce!</p> + +<p>Time and the hour had been well chosen. +The British capital was in the throes of internal +discord, fomented by the industrious +agencies of foreign powers; and Christmas, with +its holiday closure of all public departments, +admirably served to emphasise the opportunity.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</span></p> + +<p>Long ago the risks of invasion had been +publicly discussed by a prime minister of +England, who had dismissed the idea as quite +impracticable. But there were naval and +military experts and others who thought +otherwise. The unmasked landing of from +60,000 to 100,000 foreign troops on these +shores certainly would be a hazardous achievement +which many things might combine to +defeat. But, assuredly, it was not impossible; +especially if the way should be cleared for +such a landing by the disablement of the +naval ports, and the defeat of one or more +of the squadrons charged with watch and +ward over our extended coast-line.</p> + +<p>It was known to the naval authorities that +Portsmouth and Portland were peculiarly +exposed to the form of attack which Admiral +Togo had so persistently tried at Port Arthur, +and which, a few years earlier, the Americans +had adopted at Santiago. To bottle a harbour +by sinking a merchant ship in its mouth +was a device that might be tried in England, +as it had been tried abroad. If such an +attempt succeeded, invasion in military force +might become a comparatively easy task. +Granted the feasibility of an invasion, and +then what France had suffered in the annexation +of Alsace-Lorraine, England might have +to endure by ceding Kent or Yorkshire to the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</span> +strong man armed. What happened to the +Kingdom of Hanover might happen—preposterous +though it seemed—to the Kingdom +of Great Britain and Ireland.</p> + +<p>The Germans, almost insolently, had shown +their hand for years. They had said to +Britain: “You cannot keep the sea for ever. +We mean to take it from you; the trade first, +and then—the flag.” There were thousands +of Germans in our forecastles, scores of German +masters and mates on the bridges of our +merchantmen, and German pilots had been +allowed to know all that charts and practical +experience could tell them of our coasts and +harbours. One and all, they had an unconcealed +aim—to make the Teuton sea-lord +of the world. Yet, knowing all this, England, +like a giant drugged with deadly wine, had +slumbered in apathy.</p> + +<p>Had the fateful hour really struck at last? +Here, indeed, was a Naboth’s Vineyard worth +coveting, for England and the English-speaking +States on the other side of the Atlantic +controlled between them four-fifths of the +gold production of the world; England and +the United States held a third of the dry +land, owned four-sevenths of the shipping, +two-thirds of the coal, and more than half of +the world’s iron and steel. A splendid prize! +A glorious heritage! Could Germany wrest<span class="pagenum" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</span> +it in part from the Anglo-Saxons, or would +Britain, aided or unaided, rouse herself at +last and hold her own?</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> +<p>“Of old sat Freedom on the heights,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The thunders breaking at her feet,</span><br> +Above her shook the starry lights,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">She heard the torrents meet.”</span></p> +</div> +</div> + +<p>But now? Could Freedom sit unmoved?</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> +<p>“Grave mother of majestic works,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">From her isle-altar gazing down,</span><br> +Who, God-like, grasps the triple-forks,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And King-like wears the crown.”</span></p> +</div> +</div> + +<p>But now? Could Britain’s navy hold the +triple-forks against her foe?</p> + +<p>It was a solemn question, which, in that +dark Christmastide, many asked themselves, +in doubt and fear.</p> + +<p>The old national spirit, proud and patriotic, +that, spite of blood and toil, had carried +Freedom to the splendid heights, had lapsed +from its virility. What could England hope +from the hordes of stunted, ill-fed, debilitated +men and youths who for months past had +been thronging the streets of her capital, and +taking ransom from its nerveless and submissive +middle-class citizens?</p> + +<p>The hour had come. The drugged giant +must awake and fight for life, or lie at the +proud foot of a conqueror!</p> + + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</span></p> +</div> + +<h2 class="nobreak" >CHAPTER XXVIII<br> +<small>IN TRAFALGAR SQUARE</small></h2> + + +<p>The daring <em>coup de main</em> of Marcus White +had met with the most amazing and complete +success. With the exception of the Chancery +judges, who, for purposes of criminal law, were +a negligible quantity, every judge and magistrate +entrusted with the maintenance of law +and justice in the capital of England had +been swept into one net. There could be +no summons, warrant, or indictment, in the +absence of these judicial officers, anywhere +outside the City boundary. Arrests would be +idle, for no magisterial hearing or trial could +follow. The strong arm of the law, already +greatly weakened, now was wholly paralysed! +One and all, the judges and magistrates had +disappeared, carried by a cockleshell steamer +into the mystery of the darkness and the sea.</p> + +<p>People were full of their own affairs, “fear +was in the way,” and apprehension for themselves +and their families left men but little<span class="pagenum" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</span> +power or wish to think about the functionaries +of State. Moreover, on Christmas Eve the +colossal outrage became known to only a +very few, and knowledge came too late for +any attempt to arrest the steamer in her +reckless rush into the night.</p> + +<p>Heads of departments had gone out of +town—eager to escape the depression of the +looming Christmas holiday in London. The +War Office, the Admiralty, and the Home +Office were in charge of messengers and +caretakers. These circumstances, carefully +counted on by the wire-pullers of Germany, +had also played into the hands of Marcus White +in his long-cherished, revengeful war against +the representatives of the law of England.</p> + +<p>The police were the first to learn what had +happened. The startling story of the capture +at first was scoffed at; but when the truth +was made quite sure, the effect upon the +Force was staggering. The police had long +felt that there was a power arrayed against +them which could not be subdued by ordinary +means. They knew the extent to which the +normal machinery of the criminal law had +broken down. And now it was completely +shattered! The men were powerless, and +realising the fact, they felt like straws borne +on the waves of a tumultuous river towards +an unknown sea.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</span></p> + +<p>The general public were entirely ignorant +of what had happened, and the news that +came from the naval ports late on the afternoon +of Christmas Day was too absorbing to +permit of much inquiry about what was +taking place nearer home.</p> + +<p>Whatever families of other judges and +magistrates might be asking or wondering, +Aldwyth Westwood, as yet, knew of no reason +for special anxiety about her father. For +the past few weeks he had scarcely been at +home. Weary of the police escort which +had been told off to accompany him daily +from Hill Street to the Law Courts, he had +taken up his quarters at the Inns of Court +Hotel, going not at all to his chambers in the +Temple, but traversing, as he thought unnoticed, +the short distance between Lincoln’s +Inn Fields and Carey Street. There, in the +room allotted to him as one of the law officers +of the Crown, and burdened with his colleague’s +official work as well as his own, the Solicitor-General +had passed the days, forcing his brain +to work, and haunted ever with the dread of +a physical relapse.</p> + +<p>The eager people who rushed to the news-agents’ +shops on the morning of Bank Holiday +were not seeking news concerning his Majesty’s +judges, but were hoping to learn more of the +movements of the hostile fleets and the reported<span class="pagenum" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</span> +conflagration at Portsmouth dockyard. +News there was none. Not a single journal +had been published. The great body of +compositors had followed the example of the +gas-workers; and the <em>Epoch</em>, which alone +among London journals could have commanded +the services of the men, had published +nothing since its special edition of the previous +day.</p> + +<p>Baulked at the shuttered newspaper shops, +hosts of people made for the railway stations +in the hope that the bookstalls might have +been supplied with special news. But here, +too, everything was blank. Nothing authentic +was ascertainable; but rumours were +going round of interrupted communication +with the provinces, of wires cut in all directions, +and, worse still, of mysterious explosions +in several tunnels, which blocked certain of +the railways, and severed the links between +London and the coast. An air of awe and +anxious expectancy appeared on the faces +of the bewildered people, and, too excited to +remain in their houses, as the day wore on +they came in ever-increasing numbers into +the streets, until the snow on road and footway +was churned into black and penetrating +slush.</p> + +<p>Multitudes flew to drink, at once their +heaven and hell. There was no organised<span class="pagenum" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</span> +march or demonstration of the Leaguers, but +everywhere they were seen in knots and +groups. The sign of the Spider was more +in evidence than ever, just at the moment +when Kraken, monster-spider of the deep, +seemed to have risen to the surface of the +sea to crush the naval strength of England.</p> + +<p>In the early afternoon, thousands of people +assembled in Trafalgar Square, and rabid +speakers, raucous in voice, breathed fire and +fury into the frosty air.</p> + +<p>Raggett, on the steps near the National +Gallery, raved to a multitude of hearers, and +no one dared to say him nay.</p> + +<p>Presently, above his screaming tones, there +came the sound of many voices chanting in +the open air. Those who were standing on +the steps on the west side of the square then +saw a strange procession advancing slowly +along Pall Mall East. A cornet-player, wearing +a surplice, walked at the head of the +procession, and the clear, strong notes of his +instrument led the voices of a multitude of +singers. A surpliced choir of quite a hundred +men and boys was followed by the Sisters of +the Kindly Life, and behind and around them +came a mixed company of all classes, all ages, +and both sexes—young men and maidens, old +men and children. One and all rolled to the +wintry skies a hymn of hope and triumph<span class="pagenum" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</span> +that filled the people in the square with wonder +and amaze.</p> + +<p>At first there were some jeers and vulgar +cries, and here and there a burst of scornful +laughter in the crowd. But the quaint hymn +of the ancient Church had such a lilt and +cadence in its setting, that tender chords +were touched in the hearts of thousands, and +scorn and blasphemy were silenced. The +people were irresistibly drawn into the flood +of the melody. They caught eagerly at the +cards which every one in the procession held +out to those who wanted them.</p> + +<p>“’Ere, let’s ’ave a card, lady,” said a husky +voice at Aldwyth Westwood’s elbow.</p> + +<p>“Ain’t yer got a card for me, guv’nor?” +came from every side.</p> + +<p>Thus the volume of the song of triumph—discordant +here and there, but earnest and +full-throated—grew and strengthened as the +band of singers advanced towards St Martin’s +Church. Two banners floated in the air; +the banner of the day—St Stephen’s, emblematic +of his martyrdom; and the banner +of the Holy Grail, emblazoned with the mystic +Cup of Sacrifice. A jewelled cross gleamed +high over all heads, and behind it, with +clasped hands, walked Father Francis.</p> + + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</span></p> +</div> + +<h2 class="nobreak" >CHAPTER XXIX<br> +<small>BILLY’S MESSAGE</small></h2> + + +<p>There were few London households in which +Christmas had been “merry,” and the lack +of festive doings had necessarily extended to +those who are of the roofless household of +the streets. Billy of Mayfair, in his brief +career, had had some “well-fed” Christmases—the +roast beef of old England, solid slabs of +plum pudding, with oranges and nuts to +follow. Thanks to the spasmodic attention +of kindly people, the boy’s digestive machinery, +which usually had very little to work upon, +on those special occasions had been taxed to +its utmost capacity. He had had one specially +happy Christmas in hospital, and there +lingered in his memory a song of goodly +fare which all the little patients had been +taught to sing in unison:</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> +<p>“Apple pies in Autumn,<br> +Currant pies in June;<br> +Mince pies at Christmas,<br> +Coming very soon!”</p> +</div> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</span></p> + +<p>The poetry of pie!</p> + +<p>The staff-nurse said Billy had the sweetest +voice in the ward. It had won him—coupled +with his one-legged agility—great popularity +with the young family of Joe the stableman, +and he was the sole guest at their +Christmas gathering in their rooms at the +end of the mews. There was a goose for +dinner—provided by Aldwyth Westwood—and +other fare both rich and succulent. The +savour thereof filled the small and inconvenient +apartment, and with it was blended +the odour proper to the mews itself. The +preparation of such a meal taxed Mrs Joe’s +time and temper to the uttermost. She +cooked the repast with an infinite amount of +clatter, and then sat down to share it, nursing +the while their youngest born, one Francis +Joseph, of whom mention has been already +made. Francis Joseph was fretful, and dominated +the whole company—a truly imperial +and imperious infant.</p> + +<p>Joe, in his shirt-sleeves—he was never +happy in a coat—expounded to Billy his +strong objections to the motor-car. “Give +me ’osses,” he growled; “when you’ve got +an ’oss to deal with you know how to go +to work; but them machines, snortin’, and +smellin’, and tearin’ all over the place—why, +it’s disgustin’!” Billy cordially agreed.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</span> +“What’ll happen when there ain’t no ’osses +left in London, that’s what I want to know,” +said Joe. Billy was unable to say. He +didn’t know, and he said so.</p> + +<p>But they were in full sympathy these two, +always the best of friends. They were out +together on Bank Holiday, and in the procession +to Trafalgar Square were to be seen +marching side by side.</p> + +<p>None in that miscellaneous multitude sang +more lustily than Joe and Billy. The stalwart +stableman, card in hand, roared forth the +glories of the Better Land, and Billy also, +hopping through the snow and slush, trilled +out in his clear boyish voice the wonders of +the Golden City. Here, in the grim and +sombre wilderness of bricks and mortar, they +sang of heaven-built walls and pearly gates, +of halls of Zion jubilant with praise, of mansions +bright with saints and angels and all +the martyred throng. Here, in the fading +afternoon of London streets, they sang of a +land where daylight is serene. Here, with +no glimpse of the fadeless flowers of Paradise, +they sang of the pastures of the blessed. +Here, in the miserable garments of the poor, +they sang of robes of white and crowns of +glory.</p> + +<p>Raggett, momentarily silenced by the swelling +notes of the triumphant hymn, turned<span class="pagenum" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</span> +round and glared upon the priest as the procession +passed between him and the National +Gallery. Half his meeting melted away, but, +with gleaming eyes and fantastic gestures, +he renewed his harangue and poured abuse +and scorn upon the Church and all her works.</p> + +<p>His violent language and gesticulations +met with some success in stirring up the +latent hostility of the baser sort among his +hearers. Faces full of hate and brutality +looked towards those who were gathered +round the shining cross upon the steps of +St Martin’s. The fire was smouldering, and +Raggett fanned it into flame.</p> + +<p>“There’s one of them,” he shouted, with +left hand extended; “one of ’the unco’ +guid!’ Plenty to eat and drink; purple and +fine linen to wear—all the good things of life +to call his own. What does he care about +Lazarus and his sores! They come into the +streets singing about the heavenly kingdom. +But, as I’ve told you in the Park, it’s the rich +who are to have it both ways—a good time +here and the best places up above. Where +do you come in? They give you stones, my +friends, instead of bread—the stones of London. +They’ve got their cellars full of wine, +but they want to rob a poor man of his +beer; yes, even on Bank Holiday. That’s +one of them that wants to do it. Why don’t<span class="pagenum" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</span> +you go and tell him what you think of +him?”</p> + +<p>A storm of groans and hisses burst from +his hearers. A sodden-faced woman, passing +a black bottle to her companion—a towering +navvy, whose eyes were glazed with drink—yelled +to Raggett between her raised hands: +“Right you are, mate! right you are!” +The navvy took a great pull at the bottle, +and then swore freely and at large.</p> + +<p>The hymn was ended with a sonorous +“Amen,” and only one voice was heard from +the church steps—the voice of Father Francis, +vibrant and clear. He was not preaching; +he was simply speaking to the people. The +peculiar timbre and modulation of his voice +made him audible to great numbers of the +crowd, which now was growing denser and +denser over the square and the converging +streets. In simple language he carried on +the theme of the finished hymn, telling the +multitude of the Celestial City, the house not +made with hands eternal in the heavens. +There, he said, the tired traveller would find +a sweet and blessed country, the home of the +elect; the pastures of that country lay in +glorious sheen, amid still waters and eternal +bowers. There men would rest from their +labours. Ended would be the dull, deep +pain of earthly life and its constant anguish<span class="pagenum" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</span> +of patience. But the happy people of that +land would have high service to perform, +tasks suited to an ennobled human nature. +The land of the saints had its capital, a great, +a glorious city, and the existence of a city +implied community of life, activity, achievement. +They, if they so willed, might become +citizens of that wonderful capital. The gates +were open and all might enter in whose names +were written in the book of life. The nations +of them that were saved would walk in the +light of it. On the banks of the crystal river +that flowed through the city there was the +tree of life, and the leaves of that tree were +for the healing of the nations. Healed by +the leaves of that most blessed tree, the +mortal would have put on immortality, henceforth +to be a perfect being with a perfect life +triumphant over sin and hell and death. +That would be life indeed!—life for evermore; +gladness without sorrow, health without a +pang, light without darkness. The vigour +of age would know no decay; beauty would +not wither, nor would love grow cold. Such +was the inheritance that humankind might +enter into or reject—incorruptible, undefiled, +never to fade away.</p> + +<p>He paused, and with enraptured face gazed +into the western sky, where now the sun +was sinking amid vast ragged clouds. The<span class="pagenum" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</span> +towering masses, fringed at first with silver, +slowly broke and parted, taking the shapes of +ramparts, towers, and pinnacles. A rose-red +glow was spreading over all, and shafts of +amber light seemed to stretch onward in the +infinite, towards heavenly gates of pearl.</p> + +<p>Aldwyth Westwood, gazing upward from +the lower steps, saw in the face thus lighted +from the west a look that awed her—a look +she never could forget. Well might the +witnesses of St Stephen’s death have seen the +face as of an angel when the Eastern mob ran +with one accord upon the proto-martyr and +took the life he valued but as dross. And, +in some sort, the same passions that animated +the people of two thousand years ago +found expression in the London mob to-day. +Raggett had not spoken in vain. Scowling +men and unsexed women had been steadily +forcing their way towards the church while +Father Francis was speaking. Some of them +threw stones and bits of mortar at the priest, +and opprobrious cries came from every side. +The crowd surged and swayed in fierce excitement. +But Father Francis, his eyes still +fixed upon the western light, seemed quite +unconscious of attack or danger.</p> + +<p>Joe steadied Billy as the pressure increased +around them, and both looked round indignantly +when the man and woman with the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</span> +bottle came pushing and lurching through +the crowd behind them. Once more Father +Francis was speaking.</p> + +<p>“The promise,” he cried, “is to you and +to your children, and to all that are afar off.”</p> + +<p>“’Ere, Bob, you have a shy,” said the +reeling woman to her companion. She handed +him the now empty bottle, and the man, +grasping it by the neck, in a half drunken +frenzy whirled it round his head. Women +began to shriek and men to swear.</p> + +<p>“It is written here—in this Book,” cried +the priest in thrilling tones, as he held a +Bible high above his head; “<em>and this is the +Word of God</em>!”</p> + +<p>Then the huge navvy, urged by the woman, +“had a shy”; the bottle flew from his hand +with deadly force; the Bible fell, and the +face of Father Francis, ghastly and bleeding, +sank back amongst those who stood around +him on the steps. Billy saw it all, and, in +an access of fury, balancing himself unaided +for an instant, raised his crutch and struck +the shoulder of the ruffian with all his force. +With a savage oath the man half turned, and +grasping the boy’s neck, hurled him forward +with terrific violence upon the steps. In +haste to escape, the people close at hand +made a sudden rush. Some fell, their dead +weight crushing the unhappy child against<span class="pagenum" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</span> +the granite edge. Joe, with a tiger’s swiftness +and a loud cry of wrath, had sprung upon the +boy’s assailant. They wrestled, swayed, and +fell, the woman clawing at the stableman, +the crowd parting right and left in terror at +the fury of the struggle.</p> + +<p>But Billy of Mayfair lay very still at Aldwyth +Westwood’s feet.</p> + +<p>Some one raised the boy a little, and they +laid him gently on the stones. His face was +pale with a pallor that Aldwyth had never +seen before; his eyelids fluttered very faintly.</p> + +<p>“My Gawd!” said a woman, peering forward, +“the boy’s done for. Where’s a doctor? +Ain’t there no doctor here?”</p> + +<p>“Stand back, can’t you,” cried another. +“Give ’im some air.”</p> + +<p>Some one elbowed his way through the +people, and bending over Billy, made a swift +examination of his injuries. “Lungs,” he +said, tersely. “He’s bleeding internally. +Nothing to be done.”</p> + +<p>“Take ’im to the ’orspital,” shouted a voice.</p> + +<p>“He’ll die before you get him there,” +muttered the doctor.</p> + +<p>Aldwyth was kneeling now. Her left arm +supported Billy as he lay; her right hand +held his twitching fingers.</p> + +<p>Azrael, Angel of Death, was drawing near.</p> + +<p>“Billy,” she said softly, “Billy.” The<span class="pagenum" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</span> +boy’s eyes opened, and he smiled a startled +smile.</p> + +<p>Then, stooping, her face almost as white +as his, she whispered in his ear the Sacred +Name. The child gazed at her fixedly, +questioningly.</p> + +<p>“He died for you, Billy, and you are going +to live with Him.”</p> + +<p>“Say it again,” he panted, eagerly. Once +more she said it.</p> + +<p>The child sighed faintly. Had he heard? +Azrael, Angel of Death, was very near.</p> + +<p>“Dear Billy,” she whispered once more, +“He died for you, and you are going to live +with Him.”</p> + +<p>Again his face was eager. “Please thank +Him for me, mum. Please——”</p> + +<p>The voice had died away.</p> + +<p>Billy of Mayfair would speak no more. +But, perchance, the Angel heard, and bore +the message to Him who loves the children +of our race.</p> + + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</span></p> +</div> + +<h2 class="nobreak" >CHAPTER XXX<br> +<small>THE FATE OF PORTSMOUTH DOCKYARD</small></h2> + + +<p>On the night of Bank Holiday, Londoners did +not lack illumination. Gas and electric light +had failed, but north and south, and east and +west, the lurid glare of burning buildings filled +the sky. Cries of “Fire! Fire!” in every +quarter of the town brought pale, affrighted +people from their houses to the roadways or +the roofs. This added terror of wholesale +arson stupefied the luckless householders. +The fires—some said there were forty, fifty, +sixty—had free play, for the extreme section +of the Leaguers—now known as Raggett’s +Men—by concerted action, after dark, had +rushed nearly all the stations of the Fire +Brigade and forcibly removed the horses. The +most destructive of these fires occurred in +Bartholomew Close, where closely packed +warehouses in yards and tortuous streets gave +free scope to the spreading flames. At one +time it was feared that the great hospital<span class="pagenum" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</span> +itself would be involved, and the troops +were ordered out to aid the civil power +and keep some order among the excited +crowds.</p> + +<p>Brave deeds were done that night; rescues +effected in the face of almost certain death; +buildings pulled down and cut away to check +the spreading of the conflagration. But +without means of utilising the water supply, +what had once been seized by fire burnt out +to its cindered end. Strong military guards +were ordered by the general commanding the +Home District to the railway stations. Euston, +St Pancras, and King’s Cross remained intact. +Paddington escaped with some damage to +the goods department. Both the hotels and +stations at Charing Cross and Cannon Street +burst into flames almost simultaneously. The +royal palaces suffered no injury. Incendiaries +were caught red-handed, just in time, at the +British Museum, and the better sort of people, +now roused to retaliatory fury by these +malignant acts, almost tore the offenders limb +from limb.</p> + +<p>London in its desperation found some +courage. The quiet, orderly inhabitants had +borne almost as much as could be borne. +They realised, moreover, that yet worse things +might happen unless the hydra-headed monster +of disorder could be crushed. London might<span class="pagenum" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</span> +starve. Meat, milk, vegetables would fail; +all the necessaries of daily life might be cut +off, if the railways should be blocked. Six +millions, young and old, would be the almost +helpless victims of the Leaguers. Those who +had gone about the streets wearing the Spider +as a talisman suddenly found that it was a +dangerous sign. Right and left were heard +loud curses on the League. Men began to see +the full significance of the long-tolerated +movement—a growing canker at the heart of +the nation, which gave the nation’s enemies +without the very opportunity they had planned +and watched and waited for. There was still +some tough material in Englishmen; and if +the authorities could not help them, they +would help themselves. The tide began to +turn. The giant was stirring. It had needed +a galvanic shock to rouse his brain; and +verily, the shock had come at last. It was, +indeed, time to wake from sleep, and throw +aside “the drowsy syrups of the world.”</p> + +<p>In that fiery, sleepless night, in many +districts great numbers of the younger men +of the better class banded themselves together, +beating up recruits from house to house, and +posting watchers to give warning of incendiary +attempts. Armed with whatever weapons +they could find, they systematically patrolled +the streets. Shouts of “Down with the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</span> +Leaguers!” burst out from time to time, and +women and children, peeping and cowering +behind the window-blinds, gathered hope and +courage. At last the men of London had +been roused!</p> + +<p>But the flames were still licking and curling +round many a house and public building. All +night the wind was rising to a gale; the cloud +wrack flew across the reddened sky. As the +tardy hour of dawn drew near, strange pallid +people with fantastic gestures—hatless, oddly-clad—came +wandering through the streets. +Raggett had freed his friends. The Leaguers +had let loose hundreds of the lunatics of +London!</p> + +<p>Seventy miles away a yet more deadly +wound was being inflicted on the British +nation. About five o’clock on the morning +of Christmas Day two terrific explosions in +quick succession roused the inhabitants of the +little Hampshire town of Havant and the +surrounding villages. Great numbers of Portsmouth +people also heard it, but, of course, +more faintly. When, later on, it became +known that a fire had broken out in the +Royal dockyard it was assumed by many +that the sounds of explosion must have come +from the same quarter. Every thought was +concentrated on this appalling catastrophe, +the full extent of which was only to be<span class="pagenum" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</span> +gradually realised. But, all the time, the great +naval yard, Britain’s pride and strong tower +against the enemy, was fast becoming one +gigantic furnace. The grip of all-devouring +fire grew deadlier every hour. This many-acred +hive of naval industry, the factory of +the wooden walls of England, dating from +King John, and now the birthplace and the +nursery of the armoured giants of the deep, +was crumbling into dust and ashes. The +docked ships, ships’ stores, and armament, +that stood for millions of the nation’s money, +needed for national defence, roared into +flame and blackened into cinders.</p> + +<p>The seven thousand dockyard men of course +were keeping holiday. Many of the high +officials were away on leave, and those few +guardians of the yard who were supposed to +be keeping watch and ward regarded their +duty as perfunctory. What was likely to +happen there, or anywhere, on Christmas Day? +Perhaps some of those intelligent foreigners +who had been permitted to inspect the yard +from time to time—intelligent emulators of +Jack the Painter—could have answered the +question. By-and-by, of course there would +be a most strict and searching Government +inquiry—expert evidence, red tape, blue-books, +and all the rest of it. Meanwhile, the +great fire burned on—freely and furiously.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</span> +Soon after the alarm was given the seamen +from the Whale Island Barracks, and many +from the ships in harbour, with a strong force +of marines from Forton, came pouring into +the dockyard, but only to make a terrible +discovery. Of what avail a thousand willing +hands—of what use all the activity and +resource of British seamen, when the one +element with which the fire could be fought +and conquered was not available? The water +supply had failed! At first, and, indeed, for +some time, the real reason was not understood, +for the pumping station of the Havant water-works +was eight miles away. Then the appalling +truth was realised—the explosions +explained; the great engines, those in use +and those in reserve, had been shattered by +dynamite in the darkness of the previous +night. The Royal dockyard was left to the +mercy of the flames. All day, and all the +night that followed, they raged and roared. +Red ruin and destruction—almost without +restraint—spread on every side.</p> + +<p>The Portsmouth Hard was packed with +horrified spectators. The townspeople in excited +throngs ran to all the dockyard gates, +and in the poorer districts surrounding the +great wall enclosing the extension works, +every roof was loaded with awe-stricken +watchers of the conflagration.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_282">[Pg 282]</span></p> + +<p>The church steeples of the town stood out +to view in blended clouds and smoke, illumined +with a fiery glow; the gilded ship on the +tower of Portsmouth parish church seemed +to be sailing in a sea of fire. Disaster followed +on the heels of horror. In the midst of the +great calamity a rending explosion took place +in the vast powder magazine at Priddy’s +Hard,—on the Gosport side.</p> + +<p>The harbour was now so unsafe for shipping +that orders were given to remove all ships +as far as possible. Among the large vessels +alongside the dockyard jetty was the <em>Carisbrooke +Castle</em>, a South-African liner which had +lately been chartered by the Admiralty to +serve as an auxiliary scout with a Flying +Squadron then lying at Spithead. The <em>Carisbrooke</em> +had been brought round from Southampton +and was taking in a quantity of +stores; but the danger of her position made +it advisable to get her clear of the harbour +without delay. Just when she was abreast +of Blockhouse Fort an explosion—accidental +or designed, none knew—occurred on board. +The great ship, viewed by the flashlight from +the fort, was seen to heel over. In half +an hour she had settled down, blocking the +fairway, and effectually bottling the harbour +against all craft of heavy tonnage.</p> + +<p>On the Gosport side the shore was lined with<span class="pagenum" id="Page_283">[Pg 283]</span> +lookers on. From this side, indeed, looking +across the water, the sight was exceptionally +striking, for the far-spread glow lit up the +towering masts and rigging of the <em>Victory</em> +and all the ships in port.</p> + +<p>From the tower of the old Norman castle +at Portchester, away beyond the mudbanks +of the harbour, and on the crumbling walls +that flanked its water-gate, the villagers gazed +spellbound at the awesome sight. Farther +away, on the long ridge of Portsdown Hill, the +rural population of the district had a yet more +impressive view of what was happening. To +them it seemed as if the whole town of Portsmouth +must be wrapped in flames.</p> + +<p>Here, on the chalk down, stood a solitary +pillar, erected long years ago to the memory +of Nelson. Grey, moss-grown, and mournful, +it looked down on scenes with which the +great sea-captain once had been so familiar.—Southsea +Common, where a “blackguard +horse” ran away with him; the Sally Port, +where his sailors always were coming or +going; the old nooks and alleys of “Point,” +where the press-gang did its work; the old +George Inn, in which he breakfasted on the +morning of his last embarkation; the spot +on the beach, marked by the anchor of the +<em>Victory</em>, where the people grasped his hand +and, weeping, bade him a final Godspeed;<span class="pagenum" id="Page_284">[Pg 284]</span> +and there, in the light of the burning dockyard, +rode the brave old ship in which he died +for England.</p> + +<p>More than a hundred years had passed +away, and now the Royal dockyard, that had +equipped so many fleets for the greatest of +Britannia’s admirals, lay engulfed and wrecked +in a tremendous, rolling sea of flame and +smoke.</p> + +<p>Portsmouth, for all purposes of naval +warfare, was out of action.</p> + + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_285">[Pg 285]</span></p> +</div> + +<h2 class="nobreak" >CHAPTER XXXI<br> +<small>THE NAVAL BATTLE OFF PLYMOUTH</small></h2> + + +<p>Thus the chronicler: “The Spanish Invasion +being brought to a crisis, after the most +assiduous application of three whole years +to fit out that fleet vainly named by the +Pope the great, noble and invincible Armada +and Terror of Europe.... King Philip +gave orders for its sailing on the 19th of May +1588. It consisted of 134 sail of tall towering +ships, besides gallies, galliasses and galleons.” +The fleet carried 8766 mariners, 21,855 soldiers, +and 2088 galley slaves; together, +32,709 men, irrespective of Spanish Dons and +their attendants, priests, surgeons, and servitors +of all sorts.</p> + +<p>First, and before all things, it was to be +understood that the motives of his Spanish +Majesty were truly religious—” to serve God, +and to return unto his Church a great many +contrite souls ... oppressed by heretics, +enemies to our Holy Catholic Faith.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_286">[Pg 286]</span></p> + +<p>Britain, as usual, was unready; but a +fleet was got together in only 50 days. The +City of London being desired to furnish 5000 +men and 15 ships, provided 10,000 men and +30 ships, and at this great crisis in our national +life there was “such a zealous love and duty +throughout the nation towards the Queen as +is inexpressible.” Britons were Britons in +the spacious days of Queen Elizabeth; “an +uncommon joy and alacrity appeared in the +face of every one. They were pleased with +the thought of contributing, every man in his +way, towards the defence of their country, +their liberties, and their Queen.”</p> + +<p>The English fleet consisted of 80 ships +manned by 9000 sailors, and not all those +were available when the Armada was sighted +off the Lizard, disposed in a crescent seven +miles long from horn to horn; but when the +Spanish admiral got back to Spain in late +September he had but 60 sail out of his 134. +Thus, with the loss of only one small ship +and about a hundred men, England remained +the mistress of the seas. Shame, loss, and +dishonour had befallen her treacherous enemy. +<em>Venit, Vidit, Fugit!</em></p> + +<p>And now, three hundred and twenty-two +years after the winds and the waves had come +to the aid of England, another fleet of vastly +different character had been sighted from<span class="pagenum" id="Page_287">[Pg 287]</span> +the Lizard—insignificant, relatively, in point +of numbers, but immeasurably more powerful +in type and armament. And once again a +British fleet came out from Plymouth, to +watch and, if need were, to fight the foreigner.</p> + +<p>After the first and unexpected appearance +of the German battleships and cruisers off +Plymouth—made known to London by the +special <em>Epoch</em> on Christmas Day—certain +mysterious manœuvres followed. But when +eager observations were taken early on the +morning of Bank Holiday, not one German +ship remained in view. Phantom-like the +fleet had come, phantom-like it had vanished +in the dark and stormy night.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, to the intense relief of Plymouth, +another British Squadron hove in +sight. Signals and messages were rapidly +exchanged, and certain cruisers and destroyers +were at once detached for scouting work—their +duty being “to track the Germans, +shadow them cautiously, and send back news +by wireless telegraphy of their latest movements.” +The scouts, in turn, were lost to +view. Their orders were to cruise along an +east and west line some fifty miles from land, +to meet twice a day, exchange reports, and +then return in opposite directions to the +limits of their beat.</p> + +<p>At sunset the battleships and cruisers remaining<span class="pagenum" id="Page_288">[Pg 288]</span> +at Plymouth went to general quarters, +and the crews were kept at their guns during +the night. Every officer and bluejacket felt +the tension of the hour. None knew what +test of courage, skill, endurance the night or +the morning might exact from them. The +honour of the Flag, the responsibility of upholding +great traditions, the safety of their +country might suddenly be entrusted to their +keeping. The scene might well inspire English +hearts. For all remembered that hither came +in those far-off days the mighty fleets of Spain +in the period of her power; and, again, it was +out yonder in the misty sea that once upon a +time the Dutch admiral, Van Tromp, flaunted +his flag—jacks and pennants flying—in the +face of the fiery Blake, who accepted the +defiance and at once attacked and beat the +Dutchman’s ships. The older navies of the +kings and queens of England had known how +to exact the salutation of the Flag. And +Cromwell, too, had known. For in a treaty of +his time it was provided “that the ships of +the United Provinces, as well those fitted out +for war as others, which should meet in the +British seas any of the ships of war of England, +should strike their flag and lower their topsail +in such manner as had been any time practised +before under any former Governments.” Sir +Cloudesley Shovel and Sir George Rooke—they,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_289">[Pg 289]</span> +too, had exacted homage to the Flag +when Queen Anne was on the throne; and no +foreign navy had ventured to withhold the +first salutation in the long reign of Queen +Victoria.</p> + +<p>To the navy of King Edward VII., in +this supreme moment, was committed the +maintenance of our marine supremacy.</p> + +<p>Yet experienced officers were well aware +that, with all the foresight and sagacity that +could be brought to bear, the fortune of war +at sea depended very much on what men +still called chance. “Right or left,” said +Nelson, “it is all a matter of guess, and the +world attributes wisdom to him who guesses +right.” Nelson himself had to hunt for the +French fleet many a time and oft; the +American fleet had no news of the Spanish +ships for something like a fortnight in the +fight for Cuba; and in the war between +Russia and Japan, the fleet of the former +was “a dark horse” to Admiral Togo for considerable +periods. The game of wits at sea, +for which the other term is naval strategy, +depends on distances, the elements, the unforeseen. +Specific programmes are impossible, +and the best-laid plans of admirals +“gang oft agley.” Thus it came about that +in this critical juncture the British scouts +failed to get in touch with the potential enemy,—a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_290">[Pg 290]</span> +failure almost attended with dire results +for England.</p> + +<p>The Germans having given our scouts the +slip (whether by luck or skill was never known) +crept back in the dark hours towards Plymouth. +Then, suddenly, their whole flotilla +of destroyers, with lights out, and steaming +at full speed, made a desperate attempt to +force an entrance to the harbour. The rush +was admirably planned. Anticipating partial +detection, and by means of clever feints, the +torpedo craft sought to attract the search-lights +of the defence works to one particular +destroyer, hoping that the main division +might thus be enabled to make a successful +dash, under the shadow of the shore, to the +eastern and western channels of the breakwater. +But the manœuvre failed. In the +very nick of time the flashlights exposed the +real and formidable nature of the onslaught. +The roar of the battery guns burst forth upon +the night, continuing with unabated fury until +all but one of the flotilla—which ran headlong +upon the breakwater—were sunk or driven +off, damaged and defeated. The projected +supplementary action of the German battleships, +now looming into view, thus became +hopeless, if not impossible.</p> + +<p>A mighty cheer went up from all the British +ships when this was realised. It was their<span class="pagenum" id="Page_291">[Pg 291]</span> +turn now to take the warpath, and the Admiral,—Sir +Lambert Meade,—saw that they +took it instantly. In the hearts of all, if not +upon their lips, was the spirit of the stirring +English war-song:</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> +<p>“Who fears to die? Who fears to die?<br> +Is there any here who fears to die</p> +<hr class="tb"> +<p><span style="margin-left: 3em;">Shout for England!</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Ho! for England!</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">George for England!</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Merry England!</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">England for aye!”</span></p> +</div> +</div> + +<p>Daylight was near at hand, and when it +came, grey and mournful, over the sullen sea, +the tactics of the British admiral left the +enemy in doubt. An elaborate feint made +with certain British battleships and armoured +cruisers led the Germans to suppose the intention +was to drive them back into the +Atlantic; and ere they realised their error, the +greater number of the British ships steamed +diagonally outside the enemy, enclosing them +within an imaginary line drawn from the +Eddystone to Lizard Point. The light cruisers +were told off to harass the German auxiliaries, +and seeing the probable effect of this manœuvre, +the enemy opened fire, wasting powder +and shell long before they were within effective +range. The British guns, however, remained<span class="pagenum" id="Page_292">[Pg 292]</span> +silent until the distance between the fleets +was only four miles or less. Then the British +admiral gave the signal, and straightway four +battleships and eight armoured cruisers hurled +shell after shell against the nearest of the +German ships. The detached section of the +fleet that had steamed westward along the +coast, attacked with equal fury the other wing +of the invaders’ line. The Germans at first +replied with spirit. In every battle the +winning cock must lose some feathers, and +sorrow and mourning were on their way to +many an English home.</p> + +<p>Presently there were signs of disaster and +disablement among the enemy’s ships. Caught +between two fires, and deprived of the aid of +their destroyers, the position produced a +demoralising effect upon their men. The +German plan of campaign had miscarried, +and the crews and gunners were at first disconcerted +and then thrown into panic by the +concentrated and mathematical precision with +which the British guns riddled the leading +ships of their column. Here and there, in +both fleets, the bursting shells produced wholesale +slaughter and mutilation. The worst +disasters to the enemy’s ships, however, were +caused by the repeated shocks of the terrific +projectiles, which displaced the steel plates +of their armour. Thus the rivets sprang, and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_293">[Pg 293]</span> +water crept in at a hundred holes. Two of +the finest German battleships, through the +gaining weight of water, had their centre of +gravity gradually shifted. They foundered, +and all hands were lost—officers and men +going bravely, calmly, to their doom.</p> + +<p>The battleship <em>Wilhelm II.</em> became unmanageable +and left the line, and, at the +same time it was seen that desperate attempts +were being made to give protection to one in +particular of the auxiliaries—a liner of great +speed, that presently broke away and headed +for the open sea, hotly pursued by two light +cruisers and one destroyer from the British line.</p> + +<p>Both remaining sections of the defending +force now closed in upon the Germans, their +great guns doing more and deadlier work +as the range was lessened. One of the German +battleships was now on fire, and the great +clouds of smoke that rose for a time so hid +the ships that firing was suspended. When +the smoke cleared the British admiral gave +another signal, and then the deadly wasps +of naval warfare—the torpedo flotilla—swarmed +in upon the enemy to complete +the havoc and destruction commenced by +the great guns of our battleships.</p> + +<p>England, sovereign of the seas, had won +another victory. Her flag was still supreme!</p> + +<hr class="tb"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_294">[Pg 294]</span></p> +<p>The scattered units of the German fleet +had not only to seek safety from their pursuers, +but also, as the short day closed in, to +battle with a formidable gale. For the <em>Schiller</em> +and other ships that had steamed westward, +the position was one of appalling jeopardy. +They had to reckon with the terrors of a +wild and rocky shore.</p> + +<p>Less than three hundred miles from London, +the westerly extremity of England, grey and +granitic, frowns on the roaring seas that beat +in vain upon its rocky bastions. Here the +channels mingle with the mighty ocean, and +stupendous billows, tumbling shoreward, break +on the cliffs with a terrific roar that sometimes +daunts the hardened miner at work in the +galleries that stretch beneath the ocean-bed. +A little more than a mile from the +cliffs the Longship’s Lighthouse throws its +rays upon the spume of the tremendous +waves, and away to the west lies the granite +group of the Scilly Isles.</p> + +<p>The wind and the rain are twin rulers of +these islands; and the yeasty currents have +swept many a gallant ship upon their jagged +reefs. The “Bishop” and his “Clerks” are +always on the watch to shrive the souls of +shipwrecked mariners. It was here on the +Gilstone Rock (near the small islet of Roseviar) +that Sir Cloudesley Shovel, returning<span class="pagenum" id="Page_295">[Pg 295]</span> +from the siege of Toulon, met with his tragic +end. Driven off his course by storms, his +ship, the <em>Association</em>, was forced upon the +rock, and in a few minutes fell to pieces. In +that night of dreadful memory, the <em>Phœnix</em>, +the <em>Romney</em>, and the <em>Firebrand</em> met a like +fate. The <em>St George</em> only narrowly escaped. +Upwards of 2000 lives were lost in that +dread night, and since that far-off time +many another ship has gone to pieces in +those hungry jaws.</p> + +<p>It was around these ragged westerly islands +that the storm raged with especial fury on +the night that followed the scattering of the +German fleet.</p> + + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_296">[Pg 296]</span></p> +</div> + +<h2 class="nobreak" >CHAPTER XXXII<br> +<small>MARCUS WHITE AND THE MOB</small></h2> + + +<p>With that mocking perversity which confutes +the weatherwise, the frost and bitter +wind had given place to heavy rainstorms. +The wind, veering round to south-west late on +Boxing Day, blew with an ever-growing force +and fury, and made the night of December +26th one of terrible memory for many +years to come. In London and Westminster +alone a million pounds’ worth of damage +resulted from the tempest, and the tale of +ships wrecked and lives lost all round the +coast was only to be told later on and by +instalments.</p> + +<p>The traffic on nearly every railway was +now disorganised, and a strike of the railway +men had become imminent. The cutting of +telegraph wires by the Leaguers had already +gone far to keep Londoners in ignorance of +momentous events happening outside the +metropolitan area, and the great storm almost<span class="pagenum" id="Page_297">[Pg 297]</span> +completed the work the Leaguers had left +unfinished. But the partial isolation of the +great town in other respects, and particularly +the threatened dearth of food supplies, +constituted a yet further cause of apprehension. +Early on the morning of the 27th, +the provision shops were besieged by people +of all ranks, eager to lay in stores of every +description—meat, vegetables, groceries, bread, +and every kind of household necessaries. In +many cases it became a raid, in which some +paid monstrous prices, while in the scramble +others secured provisions without paying for +them at all. Great numbers of shops and +stores were wholly cleared of stock, tradesmen +and their assistants being overpowered, +while customers hurrying homewards were +frequently waylaid, maltreated, and robbed +of their purchases. The tumult and excitement +in the streets became appalling. Military +patrols were now seen in some of the +principal thoroughfares, but not in sufficient +numbers to maintain good order. Here and +there a band of hooligans, who smashed all +the street lamps as they passed, were chased +by troopers, but they generally escaped into +side streets and alleys, and resumed their +work of destruction in another quarter. +Shutters were closed, and boarded windows +met the eye in all directions. Wild rumours<span class="pagenum" id="Page_298">[Pg 298]</span> +went round. There were, it was said, barricades +at the West End. Martial law would +be declared before the day was out. Stories +were told of disaffection among the troops +at Aldershot; of a night muster on Ascot +Heath and a march through Windsor Great +Park to the Castle. Another organised +mob was reported to have assembled at +Grange Wood, near Croydon, marching thence, +with increasing swarms of adherents, through +Camberwell, Walworth, and Lambeth, making, +as some said, for the Archbishop’s Palace, or, +as others declared, for the Houses of Parliament.</p> + +<p>The truth, and the whole truth could not +be ascertained, but in all the passion and +excitement of the hour, scarcely a word of +disloyalty was breathed of the King individually. +On the contrary, the vast majority +believed that, but for the illness which lately +had prevented his Majesty from taking an +active part in the affairs of State, his tact +and courage would have remedied existing +evils before they had come to such a dangerous +head.</p> + +<p>The dangers of civil conflict were greatly +augmented by the strong and avowed resentment +that had at last broken forth against +the tyranny of the Leaguers; and this peril +in turn was accentuated by splits in the ranks<span class="pagenum" id="Page_299">[Pg 299]</span> +of the Leaguers themselves. The proximate +cause of the schism was found in the <em>Epoch</em>, +which, appearing in the streets about midday, +contained a remarkable article, printed prominently +in leaded type. In effect, the writer +declared in forcible language that though he +had no cause to love England, he would +fight side by side with Englishmen rather +than see her trodden under the iron heel of +Germany or any other continental nation. +Eschewing the cautious language of the average +leader-writer, he roundly stated that there +was a deadly conspiracy developing in certain +of the chancelleries of Europe. He warned +Great Britain to beware lest her enemies, by +a swift and sudden stroke, should lay her, +fettered, in the dust. There would soon be +news, he said, of the doings of the powerful +German squadron in the south and west, and +of a dual fleet, Russian and German, in the +North Sea. These were but the vanguard +of an enormous fleet of transports, prepared +in sections in various German ports, and +designed to land 100,000 foreign soldiers on +our shores.</p> + +<p>Then came a great surprise. This, said the +writer, was the last time the <em>Epoch</em> would +appear.</p> + +<p>The article was signed, “Marcus White,” +and his last warning words to the nation<span class="pagenum" id="Page_300">[Pg 300]</span> +were those written by a laureate of England +half a century before:</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> +<p>“Form! form! Riflemen form!<br> +Ready, be ready to meet the storm!”</p> +</div> +</div> + +<p>The article produced at first a staggering +effect upon the Leaguers, and the extreme +section, led by Raggett, but consisting mainly +of foreign anarchists, vowed vengeance on +the leader who they swore had betrayed and +hindered them in the moment of impending +triumph. A vast and threatening mob gathered +on the Embankment, and crash after crash +of broken glass startled the neighbourhood. +A beast-like roar went up when Marcus White +came forward to a window and looked down +upon the crowd.</p> + +<p>It was as he stood thus, with folded arms, +that Aldwyth Westwood and Herrick entered +the room, unannounced in the confusion of +the moment. But Marcus White turned instantly, +and the same swift look of recognition +that Aldwyth remembered noticing in the +Folkestone hotel came into his eyes as he +gazed at her. Her own eyes were strained +and sad; but, though her face was very +pale, there was courage and firmness in its +expression.</p> + +<p>She spoke at once: “I have come to ask +you about my father’s safety.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_301">[Pg 301]</span></p> + +<p>For a moment Marcus White gazed from +her face to her companion’s, answering nothing.</p> + +<p>“Why should it be supposed that I am Sir +John Westwood’s keeper?” he asked quietly.</p> + +<p>Herrick broke in: “It is known that you +had a strong personal hostility to Miss Westwood’s +father, and that a monstrous outrage +has been committed, in which you——”</p> + +<p>Marcus White raised his hand. “You are +not addressing a Court of Law,” he said +scornfully.</p> + +<p>“I wish to Heaven I were!” answered the +barrister hotly. “And, more than that, I +wish you were standing in the dock, where +you ought to be.”</p> + +<p>Aldwyth laid her hand entreatingly on her +lover’s arm.</p> + +<p>“What has this to do with Sir John Westwood?” +asked Marcus White, almost indifferently.</p> + +<p>Aldwyth stepped forward. “I ask you +this question: Is my father alive?”</p> + +<p>“Miss Westwood,” was the slow answer, +“I cannot tell you.”</p> + +<p>“You will be called to account for this,” +said Herrick sternly.</p> + +<p>A roar arose from the mob below the window.</p> + +<p>“I am being called to account for many +things,” said Marcus White, listening, with +a slight shrug of his shoulders.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_302">[Pg 302]</span></p> + +<p>“Are you mad?” cried Herrick.</p> + +<p>The other laughed bitterly. “Perhaps I +am. I have played for a great stake and I +won the trick, but”—glancing towards the +broken windows—” I may not win the rubber.”</p> + +<p>“Do you refuse to give us any information?” +It was Aldwyth who spoke now.</p> + +<p>“No, I don’t refuse. Your father and those +who were with him were left to the mercy of +that God in whose name they administer law +and justice in this country. Can you complain +of that?” He looked at Herrick as +he spoke.</p> + +<p>“What do you mean?” asked Aldwyth +breathlessly.</p> + +<p>“Miss Westwood, can those who are entrusted +with the quality of mercy towards +their fellow-creatures—can they complain if +they are left to the mercy of the elements?”</p> + +<p>“It is madness and worse than madness—murder!” +said Herrick, stepping forward.</p> + +<p>“You have courage,” answered Marcus +White, regarding him. “Perhaps,” he added +significantly, “that is why you have been +spared.”</p> + +<p>“But my father!” interrupted Aldwyth. +“What is to be done?”</p> + +<p>Heedless of the tumult without, Marcus +White advanced to the table and sat down. +He wrote a few lines rapidly. “If you take<span class="pagenum" id="Page_303">[Pg 303]</span> +this to the Admiralty,” he said, “they may +be able to get you a report; or, better still, +go to the Foreign Secretary. He is more +likely to be able to give you information.” +He folded the paper and gave it into Aldwyth’s +hands.</p> + +<p>“Let us go at once,” she said, turning to +Herrick.</p> + +<p>As she spoke a great stone came hurtling +through the window and smashed the mirror +over the mantelpiece. Heavy blows were +heard upon a door below. A white-faced, +breathless clerk burst into the room. “The +mob are threatening to break down the outer +door,” he said.</p> + +<p>“I am afraid,” said White quietly, looking +at Herrick, “you have brought Miss Westwood +at an awkward moment.”</p> + +<p>But she answered for herself. “It was I +who insisted on coming.”</p> + +<p>“I will see that you are not molested,” +was White’s reply. He paused a moment. +More stones came flying through the windows. +There was a sharp crack of firearms, and a +bullet shattered the great chandelier in the +middle of the ceiling. Marcus White crossed +quickly to the door; the frightened clerk +drew aside and watched him anxiously.</p> + +<p>“Great heavens! where are you going?” +asked Herrick.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_304">[Pg 304]</span></p> + +<p>“Outside, to face these curs.”</p> + +<p>“It is not safe, sir; there’ll be murder +done,” cried the affrighted clerk.</p> + +<p>But White ignored him. “Keep Miss Westwood +here for a few moments,” he said to +Herrick, speaking in clear, emphatic tones. +“Then you will be able to get away in safety. +When you hear me fire,” he drew a shining +revolver from his pocket, “go—at once!”</p> + +<p>Without another word, and bare-headed as +he was, he passed out of the room. They +stood in breathless suspense until a hoarse +yell of execration came from the street, +attaining increased violence and menace as +it was taken up by the greater crowd on the +Embankment.</p> + +<p>An irresistible impulse hurried them to the +window. Surrounded by a small bodyguard +of adherents, Marcus White was seen, forcing +his way across the road. Fists and sticks +were shaken at him on every side, and vile +epithets in half a dozen languages fouled the +air as the human wedge drove through the +clamouring, struggling mass and reached the +pavement on the river side of the Embankment. +The next moment he was standing +on the parapet, looking down with dauntless +eyes upon the sea of furious faces that was +now turned towards him. His voice rang +out above the uproar.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_305">[Pg 305]</span></p> + +<p>“Fools! fools, that you are, listen!”</p> + +<p>The mob responded with a howl of wrath.</p> + +<p>“Traitor!” cried Raggett, shrill above the +din; “Traitor!” and the vast excited multitude +took up the cry, yelling it with indescribable +ferocity.</p> + +<p>The gleam of a revolver caught the eye. +There were those who thought he fired above +their heads. Others believed the shot was +meant for Raggett.</p> + +<p>At any rate it was the promised signal; +but Aldwyth and Herrick stood for a moment, +held by the overmastering excitement of the +scene. Then, with savage curses and screams +of fury the mob rushed at the parapet, reckless +in their rage. Some clambered up; +others fell and were trampled under foot. +Swaying and reeling, gripped and torn on +either side, Marcus White for a moment held +his ground.</p> + +<p>Covering her eyes, and with a low cry of +horror, Aldwyth turned from the window +now, and in a moment, supported by Herrick, +she had reached the street.</p> + +<p>Close at hand, in Howard Street, the Westwoods’ +carriage, a closed landau, was waiting.</p> + +<p>“Quick, to Berkeley Square,” cried Herrick.</p> + +<p>Aldwyth sank back against the cushions, +almost fainting, as the horses plunged forward +under the sharp lash of the driver’s whip.</p> + + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_306">[Pg 306]</span></p> +</div> + +<h2 class="nobreak" >CHAPTER XXXIII<br> +<small>THE FOREIGN SECRETARY</small></h2> + + +<p>Lord Downland’s private secretary shook +his head.</p> + +<p>“My dear fellow, it is impossible,” he said. +“I’d manage it for <em>you</em> if it could be done for +any one; you know that well enough.”</p> + +<p>Herrick did know it, for the speaker and +he were first cousins, and good friends.</p> + +<p>“It’s of vital importance,” he said earnestly.</p> + +<p>“A matter of life and death,” urged Aldwyth.</p> + +<p>“Look here, Langdale”—Herrick laid his +hand on the other’s arm—” we come from +Marcus White.”</p> + +<p>“Marcus White!” The secretary drew +back, amazed, and looked from Herrick’s +face to Aldwyth’s. “You mean the head-centre +of the Leaguers?”</p> + +<p>“Yes; but they’ve rounded on him.”</p> + +<p>“Only a few moments ago, when we left +him, he was fighting for his life,” said Aldwyth.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_307">[Pg 307]</span></p> + +<p>“It’s horrible, but it’s a fact,” added +Herrick; “they were on him like a pack of +wolves.”</p> + +<p>“That’s news, indeed!” Langdale looked +very grave.</p> + +<p>“We have here something that he wrote +for us to give into Lord Downland’s hands. +It bears on the safety of Miss Westwood’s +father, and perhaps on special foreign news +which his lordship ought to know.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll see what can be done,” said Langdale +briskly. “The French ambassador is with +the marquis just at this moment; and, as you +see, the brougham is at the door. There’s no +harm in saying”—he lowered his voice slightly—” that +the chief’s on the point of starting +for Windsor, by the King’s command. But +I’ll try to manage it for you.” And he quickly +left the room.</p> + +<p>Over the window blind they could see the +electric brougham, ready and waiting to start. +Two or three uniformed policemen stood near +at hand. Farther off, Herrick caught sight +of his old acquaintance, Henshaw; and, at the +same time, the rattle of accoutrements attracted +his notice to a cavalry escort waiting +at the north end of the square.</p> + +<p>Suddenly Henshaw moved quickly out of +view. There was whispering among the uniformed +men, who wore a watchful, anxious look.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_308">[Pg 308]</span></p> + +<p>Something untoward was happening, and +the barrister looked round intending to attract +Aldwyth’s attention; but she was sitting at +the table, her elbows resting there, and her +face covered with her hands. He did not +speak to her. Tact taught him that she was +better left alone. He believed that in the +complex trouble she was suffering she was +no longer indifferent to his deep and constant +affection; and it was true. Thus does the +shaking of our lives sometimes restore the +balance. A strong man’s love; a life-companion, +tender, true, and kind! Happy the +woman who can win the prize. Aldwyth, at +least, was learning to be grateful; and gratitude, +like pity, is akin to love.</p> + +<p>When Herrick glanced through the window +again, Henshaw, usually most deliberate in +his movements, was hurrying past; but his +quick eyes had caught sight of the barrister, +and the next moment he rang the bell. There +was a hurried conversation with the hall +porter; then a footman brought in a hasty +note written on a leaf torn from a pocket-book:</p> + + +<p>“<em>Can I see you for a moment? Urgent.</em>”</p> + +<p>Herrick, with a word to Aldwyth, who still +seemed to be stunned by recent events, went<span class="pagenum" id="Page_309">[Pg 309]</span> +out, and was shown into a small anteroom, +to which the detective quickly followed him.</p> + +<p>“What is it?” he asked, wonderingly.</p> + +<p>“Well, it may be much and it may be +nothing; I can’t explain now—but, look here, +sir, that carriage out there is waiting for you +and the lady, isn’t it?”</p> + +<p>“Yes; they’re Sir John Westwood’s +horses.”</p> + +<p>“Do you mind if the Marquis goes off in +that carriage instead of in the brougham that’s +waiting for him?”</p> + +<p>“You must have some special reason for +suggesting that!”</p> + +<p>“I have,”—emphatically.</p> + +<p>“I’ll ask Miss Westwood,—it’s not my +carriage.”</p> + +<p>“One moment—need you ask? Ladies +want explanations, and there isn’t time to +give them.”</p> + +<p>“My good sir, you can hardly expect——”</p> + +<p>“Take it upon yourself, sir,” interrupted +the police officer, impressively. “It may +save life—a valuable life, too. I know what +I’m talking about, and if any harm comes to +Sir John’s horses, you may be pretty sure it +is a case in which the Government will make +the damage good.”</p> + +<p>“Very well; do what you think right. I +see there is something serious in the wind.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_310">[Pg 310]</span></p> + +<p>“Right you are, sir”; and the detective +was out of the room and the house before +another word could be said.</p> + +<p>As Herrick crossed the hall to return to +Aldwyth Westwood, the private secretary met +him.</p> + +<p>“Ah, here you are! The ambassador’s +gone. Now if you want three words with +the marquis before he leaves, come this way. +But where is Miss Westwood?”</p> + +<p>“Here,” said Herrick, opening the door.</p> + +<p>Aldwyth rose instantly, and the two followed +the secretary to Lord Downland’s library. +The Foreign Secretary stood upon the hearth-rug. +A valet was helping him to put on his +travelling coat. At a sign the man retired, +and Langdale, after a low-toned word or two +to his chief, placed a chair for Aldwyth and +also left the room.</p> + +<p>It was obvious that his lordship was in +great haste to get away.</p> + +<p>Herrick, without a word, put Marcus White’s +written message in the minister’s hand. Lord +Downland glanced at it rapidly, then read it +carefully again. A shade of colour came into +his pale, thin cheeks.</p> + +<p>He looked up. “This news was partly +known to me,” he said, “but not quite all. +The rest may be very valuable.” He glanced +for a second at the fire, then added: “This<span class="pagenum" id="Page_311">[Pg 311]</span> +leader of the Leaguers seems to have some +love for England, or, at any rate, some scruples, +after all. But he will have to pay a heavy +penalty for his misdeeds.”</p> + +<p>“Lord Downland,” said Aldwyth quietly, +“I think he has paid the last of all penalties +already.”</p> + +<p>The Foreign Minister looked at her quickly, +with grave inquiring eyes.</p> + +<p>“My lord,” said Herrick, “the Leaguers +have turned on him. We left Marcus White +at the mercy of the mob.”</p> + +<p>“Ah! is that so? A terrible experience +for Miss Westwood. But I have intelligence +that will relieve her of a great anxiety—Sir +John Westwood is safe.”</p> + +<p>“Safe! thank God for that!” cried Aldwyth, +with clasped hands.</p> + +<p>“All on board were safe. It was almost +a miracle. The steamer could not have +floated for another hour, and,” he added, +significantly, “she was discovered drifting +towards the Race of Alderney, deserted by +her captain and the crew. A monstrous +outrage!—monstrous!”</p> + +<p>“Then Sir John—all of them—must be on +their way to London now,” exclaimed Herrick.</p> + +<p>“No,” said the marquis quietly. “They +are safe, but at present they are not on +their way to England. They were picked up<span class="pagenum" id="Page_312">[Pg 312]</span> +by a German cruiser; and our relations with +Germany at the present moment are not +friendly.” A faint half-smile flickered over +his face. “It is what a former colleague of +mine would call ‘a sort of a war!’” Lord +Downland took up his hat and moved towards +the door.</p> + +<p>“Your lordship means that they are +prisoners?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, Mr Herrick. But there is no need +for alarm,” with a reassuring glance towards +Aldwyth. “England also has a prisoner—one +of very great distinction. At this moment he +is on his way by special train from Penzance +to Windsor Castle.”</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>On each side of the entrance to Mount +Street, as the carriage approached with the +Foreign Minister on his way to Paddington, +small groups were loitering. The men, for +the most part, had the look of foreigners. +Three things were vividly recalled later on—one +of them, that the officer in command of +the cavalry escort sent two troopers ahead; +secondly, that, on seeing this, Henshaw ran +forward with a loud cry of warning; thirdly, +that a shrill whistle was heard as the troopers, +followed rapidly by the carriage, approached +the turning into Mount Street.</p> + +<p>Then, swiftly following on the whistle,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_313">[Pg 313]</span> +there was a blue flash in the air, and a sharp, +cracking detonation. The leading troopers +were scattered, one of the horses plunged and +fell with a crash upon the pavement, throwing +its rider heavily against a doorstep. The +troopers’ horses in rear of the carriage reared +and plunged; a scream came from some +women who were near, and a young girl, +shockingly mutilated, fell bleeding to the +ground.</p> + +<p>The bomb had struck the roadway between +the leading troopers and the carriage horses, +but, as if by a miracle, the latter, though +terrified, were uninjured, and tore through +Mount Street at a gallop.</p> + +<p>Behind them, on the right-hand pavement +a struggling group was seen. Henshaw, whose +device had been defeated by the misconceived +movement of the troopers, had darted on a +sallow-faced man with a short black beard. +The man fought like a wild beast in the detective’s +grip, but the uniformed police had +hurried to the scene, and one of the most +powerful—it was P. C. Dormer—enveloped +the dynamitard in his arms, while others went +in hot pursuit of his fleeing confederates.</p> + + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_314">[Pg 314]</span></p> +</div> + +<h2 class="nobreak" >CHAPTER XXXIV<br> +<small>THE EAGLE IN THE LION’S JAWS</small></h2> + + +<p>The strike of compositors which had maddened +the conductors of daily journals proved +to be a blessing in disguise. Such stirring +news had come to hand that a few hours’ +delay in publishing the morning papers were +worth all the terms that trades unions could +exact—and more also. The morning papers +of December 27th became afternoon papers, +and they went off like wildfire.</p> + +<p>Indeed there was news that staggered +humanity:</p> + +<p>Item One:—The death of Marcus White +by drowning in the Thames—with the murderous +clutch of Raggett and another Leaguer +still on his throat. And this, it was recognised, +meant not only the death of three men—it +was the death-blow of the League itself.</p> + +<p>Item Two:—The direful catastrophe at +Portsmouth dockyard, with all that it meant, +and might have meant, for England.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_315">[Pg 315]</span></p> + +<p>Item Three:—The treacherous night attack +of the Germans at Plymouth, so happily +detected, and the subsequent victory of the +British fleet.</p> + +<p>Item Four:—Failure of a projected joint +movement by the German and the Russian +fleets in the North Sea.</p> + +<p>The stars in their courses had “fought +against Sisera.” The concerted action of the +combined squadrons had come to naught, +partly because of the delay and blundering +of the Russian admiral; mainly by reason of +the terrible storm which swept the sea and +thundered on our shores on that eventful +night.</p> + +<p>Battered and beaten by the tempest, the +invading ships had made all haste to return +to port. Once again, as in the days of +Queen Elizabeth, “God blew, and they were +scattered!”</p> + +<p>But the heaviest stroke of misfortune +suffered by the enemy was not inflicted in +the North Sea. The remnant of the German +Squadron of the south, seeking to escape from +its pursuers, had found the flying squadron +despatched from Spithead completely barring +their passage in the Straits of Dover. The +British crews were fresh and fit, burning for +battle. But once again in the history of +nations discretion was acknowledged to be<span class="pagenum" id="Page_316">[Pg 316]</span> +the better part of warfare. The Germans +were not now in force or condition to show +fight. Every ship fell into the hands of the +British admiral, and was promptly interned +in Dover harbour.</p> + +<p>There yet remained a startling postscript +to this tremendous news. The <em>Schiller</em>, pursued +by the British cruiser <em>Cadmus</em> and +the destroyer <em>Hornet</em>, on the 26th had made +desperate efforts to escape capture. Driven +to the west in the darkness and the storm, +the liner made a rash attempt to double back +between her pursuers and the Scilly Islands. +The result was fatal. Too late, the commander +of the <em>Schiller</em> discovered his dangerous +proximity to the “Bishop and his Clerks.” +A terrific wave swept the great liner like a +plaything on the deadly rocks. There came +another mighty, shattering rush of water that +drowned the captain and swept a passenger, +who stood beside him in that awful moment, +clear of the ship and far up on the tangled +seaweed of the rocks.</p> + +<p>So hot and close was the pursuit of the +<em>Cadmus</em> and the <em>Hornet</em> that they, too, narrowly +escaped similar disaster. The <em>Cadmus</em> +was not half a mile to windward when the +<em>Schiller</em> went ashore. The <em>Hornet</em>, nearer in, +only escaped by being refloated on the first +great wave that drowned the <em>Schiller</em>’s lights.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_317">[Pg 317]</span></p> + +<p>Of all on board the German liner only the +one passenger was saved. This passenger, +bruised, exhausted, with a broken arm, received +the prompt and kindly attention of +the coastguard. Little did these rough but +sympathetic folk suspect the exalted rank +and dignity of the sufferer. He seemed to be +a foreigner, but knew much more of the King’s +English than was known to the humble islanders +themselves. When the stranger gave them a +massive gold ring, set with a brilliant stone, by +way of parting gift, these good folk began to +think they had entertained an angel unawares.</p> + +<p>In truth they had ministered, not to an +angel—but to an emperor.</p> + +<p>The skipper of the Trinity steamer that +conveyed the stranger to St Mary’s Island +for temporary surgical treatment was a man +who had seen many illustrated newspapers. +Though at first incredulous, he thought he +recognised the illustrious foreigner. He was +quite sure of it before the steamer left St Mary’s +for Penzance with the passenger on board.</p> + +<p>Lord Downland, as the reader is aware, +knew who the stranger was before his lordship +left Berkeley Square—to run the gauntlet of the +bomb brigade—on his way to Windsor Castle.</p> + +<p>The prisoner of England was none other +than Kaiser William, King of Prussia, German +Emperor.</p> + + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_318">[Pg 318]</span></p> +</div> + +<h2 class="nobreak" >CHAPTER XXXV<br> +<small>THE KING AND THE KAISER</small></h2> + + +<p>London went mad when all the news was +known—mad with amazement, relief, anger, +joy: amazement at the deadly reality of the +national danger that had been averted; relief +at the safety of England; anger with the</p> + +<p class="center p1 p1b">“New majesties of mighty States”—</p> + +<p>that, with “great contrivances of power,” had +sought to encompass our inviolable island.</p> + +<p>And there was joy—delirious, exuberant—that +the hydra-headed mob no longer held the +field in London.</p> + +<p>The main thoroughfares were densely +packed with shouting multitudes. In the +sharp reaction of the moment, in the complex +excitement occasioned by the news, people +laughed and wept and sang. Social distinctions +were broken down; the gloved +hands of cultured women were given gladly<span class="pagenum" id="Page_319">[Pg 319]</span> +into the grip of the grimiest workmen. Men +and women of every rank exchanged greetings +and congratulations. Everywhere it was +“Rule Britannia!” “God save the King!” +“England for ever!”</p> + +<p>Those who recalled the street scenes on +Mafeking night declared they were as nothing +compared with the wild and jubilant excitement +of the present hour. Banners were +slung across the streets; nearly every upper +window displayed a flag of some sort; and, +when darkness came, Chinese lanterns, lamps +and candles, supplied the want of public +lighting—which, however, was speedily restored.</p> + +<p>Any sailor who was met with casually was +hoisted shoulder-high and carried through the +thoroughfares amid cheering crowds. Thousands +stood bare-headed before the Nelson +Column in Trafalgar Square, while a +young girl, with rapt face and glowing eyes, +standing on the masonry, recited Tennyson’s +National Song:</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> +<p>“There is no land like England<br> +Where’er the light of day be;<br> +There are no hearts like English hearts—<br> +Such hearts of oak as they be.”</p> +</div> +</div> + +<p>A vast concourse also assembled before the +broad façade of Buckingham Palace; and, +undeterred by its silent emptiness and the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_320">[Pg 320]</span> +myriads of white blinds, all drawn down, +shouted lustily and again and again for King +and Queen. “Three cheers for the Navy!” +roared a stentorian voice, and with a swift +and mighty response the crowd gave not +three cheers, but nearer thirty.</p> + +<p>The next day, and the day after, and the +day after that, the noise and the excitement +were continued almost without abatement.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile there had taken place at Windsor +Castle, amid surroundings of quietude and +regal dignity, an interview fraught with great +import to England, to Germany, and to the +whole of Europe.</p> + +<p>Two mighty monarchs, constitutional rulers +of great empires, came face to face, in circumstances +of unexampled interest and embarrassment. +It was a supreme moment, +stupendous in the main problem that it +presented, subtle and painful in the side-issues +which that problem involved. For these were +men, as well as monarchs. Not only were +they men with like passions as we ourselves +have, but the blood of a common ancestor +flowed through the veins of each. The two +were kith and kin.</p> + +<p>Nothing mean or petty could be said or +done by King or Kaiser in that trying hour. +The salutation of royal personages must +be exchanged after the custom of the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_321">[Pg 321]</span> +Courts. The ritual of State observance must +be followed in all its detail. Yet, notwithstanding +these formalities, each exalted personage +was acutely conscious of the rough, +the tragic, underlying elements of the unexampled +situation.</p> + +<p>Neither could forget in that ironic moment +the bombastic utterances of the royal captive, +the vapouring allusion to the “mailed fist,” +the “dry powder,” the “taut muscles,” and +all the rest of it. Graver still were the +recollections of the inspired press campaign +against Great Britain, the manufactured grievances, +the falsely imputed intrigues, all sequent +to the unfriendly spirit shown in the +memorable telegram to the President of the +South African Republic. Worse than all +was the evidence of enmity and jealousy +afforded by the persistent increase of the +German navy, the injurious uses to which +Heligoland had been put, the enlargement of +the Kaiser Wilhelm Canal, and the partial +construction of a new naval base for the +German fleet in the North Sea.</p> + +<p>Vaulting ambition had inspired these things, +the overmastering obsession of a supposed +divine right of empire. The proud possessor +of a giant’s power had sought, and found, some +pretext for gigantic deeds.</p> + +<p>And now the cup of humiliation had been<span class="pagenum" id="Page_322">[Pg 322]</span> +presented to those proud lips. Like the great +emperors of the past, whose dynasties had +long lain in the dust, the modern monarch +had to learn that kings propose, but One alone +disposes; that He alone, above the water floods, +“remains a King for ever.” This, indeed, +was no triumphal entry into England’s capital. +Not as William the Conqueror, but as William +the Conquered, Kaiser William stood on +English soil.</p> + +<p>But if there was humiliation on the one +side, there was on the other not only righteous +wrath, but kingly magnanimity.</p> + +<p>Of what precisely passed between the two +august sovereigns no written record was preserved. +They spoke as man to man. Nor +was there any occasion for a formal treaty +between the high contracting parties. King +Edward, with the advice of his ministers, +had already decided on the minimum of +his requirements as representing the just +demands of a great nation. Those requirements—absolutely +inflexible, and not to +be varied in any one particular—were as +follows:</p> + +<p>Heligoland was to be restored to the British +Crown. The captured warships were to be +incorporated in the British Navy. If the new +naval base on the North Sea were not forthwith +dismantled and abandoned, the British<span class="pagenum" id="Page_323">[Pg 323]</span> +fleet would bombard every German port in +Europe.</p> + +<p>It was said that the Kaiser listened with +knitted brow, and, after a brief pause, asked +quietly:</p> + +<p>“What assurances does your Majesty require?”</p> + +<p>“Your Majesty’s word of honour,” was the +answer.</p> + +<p>“It is not intended to treat me as a hostage?”</p> + +<p>“Your Majesty is free.”</p> + + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_324">[Pg 324]</span></p> +</div> + +<h2 class="nobreak" >CHAPTER XXXVI<br> +<small>THE BROTHERHOOD OF DEATH</small></h2> + + +<p>Far from the madding crowd of London, +beyond sound of all the shouting and the +tumult, they laid to rest, “each in his narrow +cell,” Father Francis and Billy of Mayfair. +The priest, after lingering for two days, had +died in Charing Cross Hospital from heart +failure, resulting from the injuries he had +sustained in the memorable meeting in Trafalgar +Square. For the moment, and to all +seeming, the Bottle had triumphed over the +Bible; but the preacher of the higher truth, +being dead, yet spoke to the hearts of +thousands, and many journeyed down from +London to attend his funeral.</p> + +<p>It was the Duke, his father, who, hearing +of Billy’s boyish impulse to avenge the murderous +attack on his favourite son, decided that +the London waif, who had paid for his temerity +with his life, should not sleep his last sleep +in a pauper’s grave. In life these two had<span class="pagenum" id="Page_325">[Pg 325]</span> +been separated by an enormous social gulf. +Rank and culture belonged to the son of the +ducal house. In his veins flowed the blood +of royalty—the blood of a lecherous monarch +of the House of Stuart. But Billy?—Well, +what mattered now? Death, the great leveller, +had made such questions quite superfluous. +Duke’s son and ragged outcast of the streets, +they had entered into the same rest, and in +death they were not divided.</p> + +<p>On Ranmore, one of the loveliest of the +Surrey hills, they ended together the little +journey of their mortal lives. The sun shone +brightly on the churchyard; far overhead +great billowy clouds, slow and majestic, sailed +across the illimitable blue. The snow had +vanished from the rolling hills. It might have +been a day in early spring.</p> + +<p>“I am the resurrection and the life, said +the Lord: he that believeth in me, though +he were dead, yet shall he live; and whosoever +liveth and believeth in me shall never +die.... We brought nothing into this +world, and it is certain we can carry nothing +out. The Lord gave and the Lord hath +taken away; blessed be the Name of the +Lord.”</p> + +<p>When they came to the graveside, aristocrat +and pauper came with the same promise of +life and immortality. As each had borne the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_326">[Pg 326]</span> +image of the earthy, so each should bear the +image of the heavenly. The boast of heraldry +availed nothing. The pomp of power was +as an idle tale. This was “the inevitable +hour” for one and all!</p> + +<p>The old duke, white-haired and tremulous, +lifted his tired eyes to the far-off sky when +they committed to the earth the body of his +much-loved son. The old man was trying to +grasp the “sure and certain hope!” He could +not weep, as others wept, for “these our +brothers.”</p> + +<p>But two stalwart men, standing close at +hand, could not keep back their tears. There +was a great lump in the bull throat of P. C. +Dormer that nearly choked him when he +looked on the last home of the child in the +tragedy of whose life he had played a cruel +and much-repented part. The strong, rough +man had found a place for sorrow and remorse, +and it was sanctified with tears.</p> + +<p>And Joe the stableman, he, too, passed his +huge red hand across his smarting eyes, +sorrowing much that he would see his little +friend no more.</p> + +<p>“Man that is born of a woman hath but a +short time to live and is full of misery. He +cometh up and is cut down like a flower; +he fleeth as it were a shadow and never +continueth in one stay.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_327">[Pg 327]</span></p> + +<p>Yet, there remaineth a rest....</p> + +<p>“I heard a voice from heaven, saying unto +me, Write, From henceforth blessed are the +dead that die in the Lord: even so, saith the +Spirit; for they rest from their labours.”</p> + +<p>In little groups, or one by one, the mourners +went away; Aldwyth and Herrick together, +passing down the church path—and onward +down the path of life. The tottering duke, +leaning on his eldest son, went home to his +great, dull mansion; P. C. Dormer returned +to night duty in the London streets; Joe +the stableman went back to his horses in the +mews. All, all the living left the lonely dead. +Thus, one day, will you and I be left, alone +in our long last sleep.</p> + +<p>The glow of the sun would wane; darkness +would shroud the graves; the pale beams of +the moon would rest there, and, in turn, the +steely light of winter stars; the strong spring +breeze would bend the grass, and the daisies +would cluster there; the song of happy birds +would come and go; the tender bud of hope, +and the red ripeness of the autumn leaf; daybreak +and sunset over the hills; summer and +winter, seed-time and harvest,—till that great +day of ripened grain, when the angels will be +the reapers, and the harvest the end of the +world.</p> + + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_328">[Pg 328]</span></p> +</div> + +<h2 class="nobreak" >CHAPTER XXXVII<br> +<small>THE GREAT THANKSGIVING</small></h2> + + +<p>On the last day of the year there was a national +service of thanksgiving in St Paul’s Cathedral. +The rushing river of national feeling, at first +tumultuous like the sound of many waters, +had found a channel, deep and broad. The +waters, being deep, were therefore still. It +was a joyful and a pleasant, but also a solemn +thing to be thankful.</p> + +<p>Vast numbers came from every quarter to +attend the service; the highest and the +lowest; the King and the Queen; the civic +rulers; the restored judges of the land; the +rich and the poor.</p> + +<p>Here in the vast cathedral church in by-gone +years the voice of praise and thanksgiving +had been raised on memorable occasions; +a thanksgiving for the King when, as +heir to the throne of England, he had come +back from the very jaws of death; a thanksgiving +for the long and prosperous reign of a +Queen dear to the hearts of her people; but<span class="pagenum" id="Page_329">[Pg 329]</span> +never before a thanksgiving such as this—so +complex and so sudden in its causes, and +following so swiftly on the perils from which +the nation had been saved.</p> + +<p>The newly appointed Primate of London—a +former Bishop of Stepney—was the +preacher; but it was no set sermon that he +preached. His Grace gave out no text, but +every heart was thrilled by what fell from his +lips:</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> +<p>“Love thou thy land, with love far-brought<br> +From out the storied Past, and used<br> +Within the Present, but transfused<br> +Thro’ future time by power of thought.”</p> +</div> +</div> + +<p>He spoke of the patriotism that is sublime, +and of the pride that goes before a fall: of</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> +<p>“True love turn’d round on fixed poles,<br> +Love that endures not sordid ends,<br> +For English natures, freemen, friends,<br> +Thy brothers, and immortal souls.”</p> +</div> +</div> + +<p>True patriotism was instanced by the +banished Jew, made cup-bearer to a heathen +king, the man who sat down and wept when +he learned that the walls of his beloved +capital were broken down and the gates +thereof burned with fire: the man who worked +as well as wept; who inspired his compatriots +and rebuilt the walls and gates of the city—trowel +in one hand and sword in the other.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_330">[Pg 330]</span> +“So built we the wall ... for the people had +a mind to work.”</p> + +<p>Then the Primate turned to the wonderful +story of the first Babylon. He spoke of the +king who dreamed dreams wherewith his +spirit was troubled, dreams that could only +be interpreted—not by court magicians and +astrologers—by the servant of One who +changeth the times and seasons, removeth +kings, giveth wisdom to the wise, and knowledge +to them that know understanding. He +alone “revealeth the deep and secret things +and knoweth what is in the darkness.”</p> + +<p>Who should dare to say, demanded the +Archbishop, that even now, in the twentieth +century, the vision of the eastern king was +not receiving fresh fulfilment—that mystical +vision of the kingdom of gold, the kingdom of +brass, and the kingdom of iron—iron that was +mixed with miry clay?</p> + +<p>The king whose dreams troubled him had +many warnings. When he set up his golden +idol on the plain of Dura, he was warned. +In his rage and fury with the Jews who dared +to disobey him, he cast the three righteous +men into the seven-fold heated furnace, and +lo! he saw four men walking loose in the +midst of the fire, unhurt; and the form of +the fourth was like the Son of God. Thus +was he warned again.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_331">[Pg 331]</span></p> + +<p>So when the heart of Nebuchadnezzar was +lifted up, and his mind hardened, he was +deposed from his kingly throne, and they +took his glory from him.</p> + +<p>And Belshazzar his son, he, too, was warned +by that mysterious writing on the wall. In +that same night was he slain and Darius took +the kingdom.</p> + +<p>And the prophet himself had visions of the +future, visions of nation fighting against nation; +of the four winds of heaven striving upon the +great sea; of the four great beasts that came +up from the sea, diverse from each other—the +first like a lion, the second like the bear, the +third like a leopard, and the fourth dreadful +and terrible and strong exceedingly, with +teeth of iron. Who, again asked the preacher, +should dare to say that the vision of the great +sea and the great powers might not have +further fulfilment among the nations and +navies of to-day?</p> + +<p>You Englishmen and Englishwomen, the +Primate went on, leaning forward and looking +into the myriads of upturned faces, should +lay these thoughts to heart. The prophetic +vision is not concerned with the kings of the +earth alone. No king can stand without +national support, and the nation is made up +of individuals. Stands England where she +did? Was Great Britain worthy of continued<span class="pagenum" id="Page_332">[Pg 332]</span> +greatness, and able to maintain it? +Think of her history! “England, bound in +with the triumphant sea, whose rocky shore +beats back the envious siege of watery Neptune.” +Would this dear England ever be +“bound in with shame, with inky blots and +rotten parchment bonds?” This England, +that was wont to conquer others! If we +loved England, then in a just quarrel we must +fight for England, holding the “water-walled +bulwarks still secure, and confident from +foreign purposes,”—pulsing the “little body +with a mighty heart.” Each man must bear +his part, a part worthy of his nationality, +inspired with the belief of the English statesman +whose statue stood in the heart of London—that +life is a great and honourable calling, +not a mean and grovelling thing to be shuffled +through.</p> + +<p>In some sense they had regarded themselves +as a chosen people. Let them remember +that older nation once chosen, but +now scattered and oppressed. High above +the towering dome of that cathedral where +they worshipped, the cross stood out year +after year—a warning, a symbol, an inspiration. +It meant self-sacrifice. Self-sacrifice +was the watchword, and the example, of the +great Captain of their salvation. Nothing +would avail an England, or an Englishman,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_333">[Pg 333]</span> +ashamed to confess the faith of Christ crucified, +a deserter of the banner under which +Christians were pledged to continue faithful +soldiers and servants until their lives’ end. +A Christ-less England would be an England +lost!</p> + +<p>And how would England stand without +the witness of the ancient Church in England? +The Babylonian king set up a god of gold on +the plain of Dura; but had not a god of gold +been set up in many an English heart? +“Born a man, and died a grocer!” Could +epitaph be more withering in its contempt +and irony? Yet an honest grocer was better +than a dishonest Christian. If we were a +nation of shopkeepers and our only shrine +was the till, let us at least be honest shopkeepers—not +a nation of hypocrites as well; +let us eat and drink, for to-morrow we die! +Yes, better an honest pagan than a bogus +Christian.</p> + +<p>A thrill went through the vast congregation, +eagerly listening to the preacher’s words; and, +as he paused, a pallid man, dressed in the +fashion of the day, started to his feet, his +hands outstretched, and cried with a loud +voice, “What shall we do to be saved?”</p> + +<p>The effect was magnetic. At least five +hundred persons instantly rose in like manner. +It was manifest that they, too, in the awakened<span class="pagenum" id="Page_334">[Pg 334]</span> +anguish of their souls, sought an answer to +that momentous question. The Archbishop, +looking down on them, was greatly moved. +For they were as sheep having no shepherd. +Then he gave the answer, strong and +vehement:</p> + +<p>“If you would be saved, away with shams +and false pretences! There is only one hope +for humankind; only one star to follow—the +Star of Bethlehem. Guided by that blessed +star, you can reach the port of peace.”</p> + +<p>With hands covering their faces, the people, +sobbing here and there, sank back into their +seats.</p> + +<p>The preacher continued in a ringing +voice:</p> + +<p>“I demand, therefore, dost thou renounce +the devil and all his works? Dost thou renounce +the vain pomp and glory of the world, +with all covetous desires of the same, and the +carnal desires of the flesh? Dost thou, in +very truth, renounce these things, or in thine +heart of hearts dost thou mean to follow and +be led by them?”</p> + +<p>This time at least a thousand voices gave +the answer: “I renounce them all.”</p> + +<p>“Dost thou believe in the remission of +sins; the resurrection of the flesh; and everlasting +life after death? What is your +answer?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_335">[Pg 335]</span></p> + +<p>The answer came from all the worshippers: +“All this I steadfastly believe!”</p> + +<p>“Remember,” said the preacher, “Christianity +was a revelation; not a rule of thumb. +We must begin at the beginning, and remember +our Creator in the days of our youth. +Beware of sectarian quarrels, which keep the +one Book worth all the others in the world +from the children of the nation. How shall +they learn without a teacher?</p> + +<p>“And you who are no longer children, +beware of intellectual pride. If in this life +only you have hope you are of all men most +miserable. Do you refuse to believe in everything +you cannot understand? What stupendous +folly! What mad presumption! +Readers, scholars, writers, some of you, wise +in your own conceits, you say you cannot +credit anything outside the laws of Nature. +But you and I and all of us as yet are only +children crying in the night, and with no +language but a cry. Only one man ever born +into this world could understand Nature’s +laws in all their fulness, and that Man was +divine. Thus far shalt thou come, and no +farther! What men call supernatural may +only be natural law on a plane beyond our +ken. Nature works slowly and in evolutionary +cycles. Yes; but Nature also works—so +far as human eyes can see—in a moment, in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_336">[Pg 336]</span> +the twinkling of an eye—in tidal waves, the +lightning flash, the earthquake; in volcanic +outbursts, in the overwhelming avalanche. +Humble yourselves under the mighty hand of +God, and let no creature dare to limit the +immeasurable powers of his Creator.</p> + +<p>“Do you who disbelieve want your wives and +children to be unbelievers? You don’t; but +you leave it to them to worship in our churches. +And you yourselves, if not unbelieving, at +least half hearted, are holding feebly to the +Faith with one hand, and with the other +greedily grasping the pleasures of the world. +Men of England, whither are you drifting? +You cannot serve God and Mammon. Choose!—make +your calling and election sure. +Believe, as that man of towering intellect to +whom this great church is dedicated, believed; +as your own great countryman, William Ewart +Gladstone, believed; as the great Lord Salisbury +believed, and many another brilliant +thinker who loved our England and her +Church. Believe, as he believed who said, +there are more things in heaven and earth +than are dreamed of in our philosophy.</p> + +<p>“Those who walk in pride, He is able to +abase. Never suppose that in this little +world, this ante-chamber of life, where our +own armchairs outlive us, we shall see otherwise +than darkly through a glass. Not yet<span class="pagenum" id="Page_337">[Pg 337]</span> +would be revealed the deep and secret things, +and what is in the darkness. Patiently must +we work out our national and our individual +salvation, and with fear and trembling, lest +what happened to the idolatrous nations of +old should happen to ourselves. Wherein is +London greatly better than Nineveh? Our +idols are silver and gold, the work of men’s +hands. Fire from heaven fell upon the +Cities of the Plain. Is London free from +what is earthly, sensual, devilish? Repent! +Repent! lest this great Babylon, like that +other Babylon, pass into nothingness.</p> + +<p>“Never forget! The faith and the works +of Christianity are indissolubly bound up +with the strength and greatness of England. +What God hath joined together let no man +put asunder.”</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>Before the high altar, archbishop, bishops, +dean, canons, and choristers, with glittering +cross raised high, the organ pealing, raised +the great song of praise. The long-drawn +aisles and fretted vaults echoed the music +of a nation’s worship. The people knelt +in humble adoration as they sang: “We +acknowledge Thee to be the Lord: All the +earth doth worship Thee: The Father Everlasting.”</p> + +<p>It was a landmark in English history, a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_338">[Pg 338]</span> +national acknowledgment that the Most High +ruled in the Kingdom of Men, appointing over +it whomsoever He would.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>Twelve hours later the Old Year lay a-dying. +Within the cathedral all was dark +and silent. The voice of praise was hushed; +the worshippers were gone. But the incense +of adoration might be rising still, far above +the mighty, shadowed dome, far above the +night-encircled cross.</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> +<p>“Have you read in the Talmud of old,<br> +In the Legends the Rabbins have told<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of the limitless realms of the air—</span><br> +Have you read it—the marvellous story<br> +Of Sandalphon, the Angel of Glory,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of Sandalphon, the Angel of Prayer?”</span></p> +</div> +</div> + + +<p>Erect—the Rabbins pictured the glorious +angel, at the outermost gate of the City +Celestial:</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> +<p>“And he gathers the prayers as he stands,<br> +And they change into flowers in his hands,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Into garlands of purple and red;</span><br> +And beneath the great arch of the portal,<br> +Through the streets of the City Immortal<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Is wafted the fragrance they shed.”</span></p> +</div> +</div> + +<p>And now outside the cathedral another +multitude had gathered; saints and sinners, +revellers and vulgarians. All sorts and conditions +of men; the drunk and the half-drunk;<span class="pagenum" id="Page_339">[Pg 339]</span> +the senseless bawlers of silly jokes; +the maudlin bellowers of “Auld Lang Syne.” +But, after all, these noisy people were but the +tide-tossed scum and flotsam upon the surface +of a broad, strong stream. The crowd, like the +nation, had had a lesson—stern, convincing—and +it was sound at core.</p> + +<p>As the solemn hour drew near, a scarcely-broken +silence fell upon the multitude. From +the hearts of many rose unspoken prayers.</p> + +<p>High in the winter night the London bells +were chiming, ringing the Old Year out, +ringing the New Year in.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>Hark to the bells!...</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> +<p><span style="margin-left: 1em;">“The year is dying in the night,</span><br> +Ring out, wild bells!...<br> +<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The year is going, let him go;</span><br> +Ring out the false, ring in the true.”</p> +</div> +</div> + +<p>Hark, they are chiming still!...</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> +<p><span style="margin-left: 1em;">“Ring out the feud of rich and poor</span><br> +Ring in redress to all mankind.”</p> +</div> +</div> + +<p>Chime on, chime on!...</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> +<p>“Ring out old shapes of foul disease;<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ring out the narrowing lust of gold;</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ring out the thousand wars of old,</span><br> +Ring in the thousand years of peace.”</p> +</div> +</div> + +<p>Ring out! Ring in!...</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"><p><span style="margin-left: 1em;">“Ring out the darkness of the land,</span><br> +Ring in the Christ that is to be.”</p> +</div> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_340">[Pg 340]</span></p> + +<p>The “faithless coldness of the times,”—was +that, too, dying with the Old? Were “sweeter +manners, purer laws” to dawn with the first +daybreak of the New?</p> + +<p>No answer came from earth or heaven. +The deep and secret things were not revealed; +none knew what was in the darkness +of the future.</p> + +<p>The ringers paused. Hush! the hour is +striking.</p> + +<p>The last vibration quivers on the air. Deep +silence falls.</p> + +<p>Then once again the bells ring out—clear-toned, +hopeful, strong:</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> +<p>“<em>There’s a new foot on the floor, my friend,<br> +And a new face at the door, my friend,<br> +A new face at the door!</em>”</p> +</div> +</div> + +<p class="center p1 big1">THE END</p> + +<br> +<hr class="tb"> +<br> +<br> +<p class="center"><small>PRINTED BY M<sup>c</sup>LAREN AND CO., LTD., EDINBURGH</small></p> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75548 ***</div> +</body> +</html> + diff --git a/75548-h/images/cover.jpg b/75548-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..76536f4 --- /dev/null +++ b/75548-h/images/cover.jpg diff --git a/75548-h/images/i_086.jpg b/75548-h/images/i_086.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..294256d --- /dev/null +++ b/75548-h/images/i_086.jpg |
