"Don't mind me," said the Prince. "What!" the civilian started to his feet. "I beg your Royal Highness--I mean, sir--I didn't----" "Sit down," said the Prince. "Tell lies, we need amusing. Proceed, my Lord Chief Poisoner." "Oh--ah--well, sir," the Poisoner smiled and writhed. "I have good news, sir, and at last I'm at liberty to speak. I had the honour to hear you mention, sir, the armies of the invasion." "Yes, sir." "They can't march on London without roads and railways, and they depend, sir, more or less on the country for supplies--of water, for instance." "Water?" "The first of all necessities. The Franco-German forces, as you know, sir, have landed on the coast of Kent, Sussex, and Hampshire. Now in these three counties, her Majesty has called out the Territorials, and ordered them to retreat on London sweeping the whole population before them, driving the live-stock in to feed the capital, burning all provisions and ricks that couldn't be moved. The railways have been mined, and the roads blocked with felled timber and mines. Yesterday I had the honour to direct the poisoning of every well, pond, and running stream. Her Majesty sends word advising the enemy that she will supply pure water when the troops lay down their arms." "But they can march across?" "Yes, sir, they can march across without transport or artillery, or food, or water, to attack the fortified positions on the north downs. Meanwhile the live-stock and provisions are restoring life and hope to the armies and citizens in London." "You mean to say," cried Lancaster, "that the Queen has done all that in five days?" "It's seven days since her Majesty seized the Government." "How about the Russian landing in Essex?" "I'm not at liberty to speak as yet." "I see," Lancaster had both hands to his bandaged head. "But there are still the enemy's Fleets." Browne chuckled. "Hello," Lancaster flashed round on him. "Who told you to laugh?" "Something," said Browne, "about eagles and bones out of the Bible--wish I could remember what Miss Temple did say. She reviewed them yesterday." "Miss Temple held a review? Well, I'll be boiled!" "No," Browne was irritable, "our Lady, of course, reviewed the What-d'ye-call-um's ships--Brand's ships--eleven of them." "You're dreaming, Browne." "It's no dream," said Browne. "Our Lady has kept the crews alive in gaol; she's got the squadron together, reviewed them yesterday, and she's going to send them against the enemy's fleets. They've got some sort of vibrations for touching off explosives, but none of their captains ever heard of these vibrations, and Brand is the only man who knows the secret. That seems to trouble our Lady."