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. 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 of the Leaguers themselves. The proximate cause of the schism was found in the _Epoch_, 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. Then came a great surprise. This, said the writer, was the last time the _Epoch_ would appear. The article was signed, “Marcus White,” and his last warning words to the nation were those written by a laureate of England half a century before: “Form! form! Riflemen form! Ready, be ready to meet the storm!” 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. 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.