“I was standing quite close to the man, a foreigner of course, with a dirty hanging black moustache--tall, big fellow, with coat up over his ears--I must say that I wasn't looking at him. I had Mrs. Harris with me and was trying to get her a place where she could see better, you understand. Then suddenly--before one was expecting it--the Procession began and I forgot the man, the foreigner, although he was quite up close against me. One was excited of course--a most moving sight--and then suddenly, when by the distant shouting we understood that the Queen was approaching, I saw the man break through. I was conscious of the man's vigour as he rushed past--he must have been immensely strong--because there he was, through the soldiers and everybody--out in the middle of the street. It all happened so quickly of course. I heard vaguely that some one was shouting and I think a policeman started forward, but anyhow the man raised his arm and in an instant there was the explosion. It went off before he was ready I suppose, but the ground rocked under one's feet. Two soldiers fell, unhurt, I have learnt since. There was a hideous dust, horses plunging and men shouting and then suddenly silence. The dust cleared and there was a hole in the ground, stones rooted up ... no sign of the man but some pieces of cloth and men had rushed forward and covered something up--a limb I suppose.... I was only anxious of course that my wife should see nothing ... she was considerably affected....” So Mr. Harris of Cheapside, with the assistance of an eager and talented young journalist. But the fact remained in the heart of the crowd--blasted foreigner had had a shot at the Old Lady and missed her, therefore whatever gaiety may have been originally intended let it now be redoubled, shouted into frenzy--and frenzy it was. “There was no clue,” an evening paper added to the criminal's identity.... The police were blamed, of course.... Such a thing must never be allowed to occur again. It was reported that the Queen had in no way suffered from the shock--was in capital health. Outside the bookshop Stephen and Peter had parted. “I'll meet you about half-past ten, Trafalgar Square by the lion that faces Whitehall; I must go back to Brockett's, have supper and get my things, and say good-bye. Then I'll join you ... half-past ten.” “Peter boy, we'll have to rough it--” “Oh! at last! Life's beginning. We'll soon get work, both of us--where do you mean to go?” “There's a place I been before--down East End--not much of a place for your sort, but just for a bit....” For a moment Peter's thoughts swept back to the shop. “Poor Zanti!” He half turned. “After so many years ... the good old chap.” Then he pulled himself up and set his shoulders. “Well, half-past ten--” The streets were, at the instant, almost deserted. It was about five o'clock now and at seven o'clock they would be closed to all traffic. Then the surging crowds would come sweeping down.