When at length the August Bank holiday came round, the disorganised condition of the railway service led to the abandonment of 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 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. 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. 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. 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.