CHAPTER V

THE LEAGUERS’ SECOND MOVE

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.

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.

“Bless and save us! what are you staring at there?” demanded Mrs Wilson, who always was tart of tone and imperative in manner.

“It’s a Bank of England note,” was Wilson’s reply.

“How much?” demanded Mrs Wilson.

“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.

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, 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.

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 suggestion that they should go to church as an alternative resort.

On the Saturday evening, a handbill was widely circulated in the lower quarters of the capital. This was how it ran:

LET US GO TO CHURCH WITH SIR JOHN WESTWOOD TO-MORROW. AFTERWARDS THERE WILL BE A GRAND OPEN-AIR FÊTE AND MONSTER CONCERT IN HYDE PARK. COME AND SEE HOW RELIGIOUSLY LONDON SOCIETY OBSERVES THE SABBATH.

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.

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 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.

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 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.

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 _melée_ 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 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.

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.

Thus ended the first skirmish in the campaign of the Leaguers of London against the forces of law and order.