The unexampled slump in legal business had left him, and great numbers of his brother-barristers, with next to nothing to do. Many of them, in common with himself, had received threats under the sign of the spider, but so far there had been no actual fulfilment of the warning. It was noticeable, however, that fewer men in wig and gown were seen in the streets in the vicinity of the Law Courts, and those who did wear their forensic armour were sure to encounter gibes and insults from some contemptuous tongue. Events were to prove, however, that in the first place the Leaguers were maturing their plans to fly at higher game than the ordinary stuff gownsman. So altered were the relations between himself and Aldwyth Westwood that Herrick, wisely, perhaps, had deemed it best not to worry her with continued remonstrances, or requests for explanations. The times were out of joint, but the shadow could not last for ever, and his temperament led him to believe that all would yet be well. Meanwhile, his zeal as a volunteer officer was reawakened by concurrent events, and the occupation that drills and marches afforded him was very welcome. On a memorable afternoon, about a week after the Leaguers’ demonstration at Whitehall, the “Devil’s Own” were mustered for a march. Groups of officers and men stood talking in Stone Buildings, Old Court, and New Square, waiting for the complement of rank and file. The men came in from various directions--some by the archway from Carey Street, some through the passage at the south-west corner of New Square, others from the various Chancery Lane approaches. Herrick himself turned in at the large west gateway. Thus it was that he noticed that a muster of another character was at the same time taking place in Lincoln’s Inn Fields, probably as preliminary to another and formidable street demonstration on the part of the Leaguers.