Multitudes flew to drink, at once their heaven and hell. There was no organised 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. 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. Raggett, on the steps near the National Gallery, raved to a multitude of hearers, and no one dared to say him nay. 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 that filled the people in the square with wonder and amaze. 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. “’Ere, let’s ’ave a card, lady,” said a husky voice at Aldwyth Westwood’s elbow. “Ain’t yer got a card for me, guv’nor?” came from every side. 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. CHAPTER XXIX BILLY’S MESSAGE