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 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. 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 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. 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.