The Lord Mayor, pale and nervous, had appealed for advice, and was told that the police would soon be able to restore order; but the organised volley which sent stones and glass into the interior of the official residence showed how futile was that expectation. It was now hastily decided to read the Riot Act, or, strictly speaking, the warning proclamation which the Act contains. This Act--passed some two hundred years before--is intended to meet the case of tumults and riotous assemblies. If twelve or more persons remain assembled for one hour after the reading of the proclamation, all are guilty of felony. The offence formerly was punishable with death. Not within the memory of living man had the Riot Act been put into force in the City of London, and for a moment a sense of curiosity and expectation silenced the swaying and excited crowd, when the Lord Mayor, in robe of office, came forward, flanked and supported by officials and police, to signal for attention. The little group stood on the stone terrace of the building facing north, and his lordship’s voice sounded singularly thin and weak as he began the proclamation, having first held up his hand to secure attention: “Our sovereign lord and king chargeth and commandeth all persons assembled immediately to disperse themselves and peaceably depart to their habitations, or to their lawful business, upon the pains contained in the Act----” The rest was lost in a swift yell of derision and defiance, and the concluding words, “God save the King,” were quite inaudible save to those who were around or immediately below the speaker. The civic group now retired with such haste that a great burst of laughter came from thousands who observed the retreat. It gave just that touch of humour to the proceedings that saved the situation. The police, marking the sign of better temper, stayed their hands, and when it became known that “God save the King” were the final words of the proclamation that had been read, here and there in the throng a voice started the National Anthem, and vast numbers began to chime in. It was discordant, but hearty, and bore indisputable witness to the personal popularity of his Majesty. The mob, perhaps, had done all that it had intended to do; but, at any rate, the crisis was passed, and in less than the hour’s grace allowed by the Act, the great crowd had marched away in sections, leaving only the broken windows of the Mansion House as evidence of the recent onslaught. It was not generally known until later that a military force had been hastily got in readiness to aid, if need were, the repressive action of the police. The outcome, however, was, in one sense, disastrous, for it led the authorities to conclude that the worst was over; a miscalculation that facilitated the moves that followed in the daring campaign of the Leaguers. CHAPTER XX THE LEAGUERS AT THE HOME OFFICE