Already, so it was stated, the German war squadron was on its way to England, and German vessels of every sort were conveying an army of half a million of men to this country, nominally to assist King Edward's troops in crushing the rebellion. Once, however, they had succeeded in effecting a landing, the real purpose for which they had come here would be revealed, and they would co-operate with the Dumpling's forces, and officially recognise his claim to be Emperor of England and of France. The fact that a German squadron had sailed with sealed orders the day before the outbreak, lent some colour to this preposterous theory, and the fact, also, that undoubtedly something in the nature of a panic prevailed at Court, went far to support it. What was wrong there nobody knew. The Prince of Wales and the Prime Minister, it was known, had been hastily summoned, and had driven to Buckingham Palace in hot haste, surrounded on every side by escorts large enough to be spoken of as small armies. An hour after their arrival, the King, so it was stated, had, in response to a loyal demonstration outside the Palace, appeared for a moment at a window, hurriedly bowed, and as hurriedly retired. Clearly something was wrong at Court, and what that something was, and how intimately concerned in it I was to be, I could not in my wildest dreams have conceived. CHAPTER XXXV. THE GREAT FIGHT IN FLEET STREET. Until three o'clock on Monday afternoon there was no new disturbance, no reassembling of the rioters; but soon after that hour it was clear that something was astir. This time there was no marching in companies, but the vast crowds that were quietly but systematically pouring cityward from every quarter were clearly acting under instructions, and according to some method of organisation. So far as I could see, it was towards the open space in front of the Royal Exchange that the crowd was converging, and thither I allowed myself to be carried with the stream. On this occasion it was quite clear that the mob was neither sanguine nor confident, and for this there were reasons. The first was the absence of the Dumpling. That he was to have met his lieutenants at a certain hour, and at a certain place, that morning, but for some unaccountable cause had failed to keep the appointment, was already common knowledge. When he was present, that heterogeneous gathering seemed organic. It acted not as a mob, but as one man; and one man, in a sense, it was, since each contingent--come as it might from Bermondsey, from Poplar, or from Canning Town--seemed like one of the limbs of a human body, of which this man, the Dumpling, was the controlling brain.