So reining to a trot, they went along the Fleet Viaduct, with a passing glance at some sudden riot running wild down in Farringdon Street. They skirted the south side of St. Paul's, and traversed Cannon Street. But then, instead of turning off towards London Bridge, they plunged down the hill by the Monument into the cobbled alley of Lower Thames Street. The destroyer must have seen that they were actually bound for the Tower, for now she whistled thrice. "They think we're chasing Brand!" cried Lancaster, and waving his arm signalled the destroyer to follow. Ahead by the Billingsgate Market lay a fish van overturned, entirely blocking the thoroughfares. So they plunged up hill among lanes and alleys, passing over the body of a murdered policeman, until they emerged by an old church where the congregation was singing the Litany, and came out upon the open space of Tower Hill. "Give me the lantern," said Brand, as they swept down towards the Tower Gate at a gallop. "I'm going to signal my yacht." "Then the destroyer will fire--she's close behind!" "We must take the risk." He drew rein, and flashed the strong light thrice across the sky. The destroyer fired a warning shot, but again Mr. Brand flashed the signal, and presently yet again. "By George!" muttered Lancaster. "We're done for now!" "Lancaster," said the master, "is there any officer of the Guard at all like me in appearance?" "There's Captain Talbot, his gear exactly fits you." "Good. The destroyer will steer close down now. Ride up to her, say Captain Talbot sends you, that Brand's at the Palace, and we've used his secret signal to lure the yacht. The destroyer's to wait out of sight until Captain Talbot gives orders to attack." The trooper dashed away up the slope. "When I raise my hand," the master shouted after him, "ride straight for my yacht." The warship was slanting down, she sheered barely clear of the housetops, and then hung poised above the trees by the Tower moat. And now drawing rein after a furious gallop, the trooper faced the suspended warship, so close that his horse reared up in terror. "Captain Talbot's compliments," he yelled. "Help us to capture Brand's yacht. Lie low and wait!" "Where's Mr. Brand?" cried the destroyer circling round the terrified horse like an eagle round a mosquito, the faintest airs from the river just whispering under her aeroplanes, and barely strong enough to give her steerage way. "Brand is in chains at the Palace!" the trooper yelled so that his voice broke in a wail. "Lie low and help us, we're luring the yacht down with Brand's private signal. Captain Talbot will give the order to fire!" But now the destroyer was so low between the buildings that she lost the air and grounded. It would take her three minutes to rise clear again from the earth, and meanwhile she lay helpless on her keel springs.