The response was some gruff words in German, and the sound of scuffling could distinctly be heard. Then all was silent. Time after time he rang up the small Suffolk town, but in vain. Then he switched through to the testers, and quickly the truth was plain. The second trunk line to Norwich, running from Ipswich by Harleston and Beccles, had been cut farther towards London. But what held everyone breathless in the trunk telephone headquarters was that the Germans had actually effected the surprise landing that had so often in recent years been predicted by military critics; that England on that quiet September Sunday morning had been attacked. England was actually invaded. It was incredible! Yet London’s millions in their Sunday morning lethargy were in utter ignorance of the grim disaster that had suddenly fallen upon the land. Fergusson was for rushing at once back to the _Weekly Dispatch_ office to get out an extraordinary edition, but the superintendent, who was still in conversation with the motorist, urged judicious forethought. “For the present, let us wait. Don’t let us alarm the public unnecessarily. We want corroboration. Let us have the motorist up here,” he suggested. “Yes,” cried the sub-editor. “Let me speak to him.” Over the wire Fergusson begged the stranger to come at once to London and give his story, declaring that the military authorities would require it. Then, just as the man who had been shot at by German advance spies--for such they had undoubtedly been--in order to prevent the truth leaking out, gave his promise to come to town at once, there came over the line from the coastguard at Southwold a vague, incoherent telephone message regarding strange ships having been seen to the northward, and asking for connection with Harwich; while King’s Cross and Liverpool Street Stations both rang up almost simultaneously, reporting the receipt of extraordinary messages from King’s Lynn, Diss, Harleston, Halesworth, and other places. All declared that German soldiers were swarming over the north, that Lowestoft and Beccles had been seized, and that Yarmouth and Cromer were isolated. Various stationmasters reported that the enemy had blown up bridges, taken up rails, and effectually blocked all communication with the coast. Certain important junctions were already held by the enemy’s outposts. Such was the amazing news received in that high-up room in Carter Lane, City, on that sweet, sunny morning when all the great world of London was at peace, either still slumbering or week-ending. Fergusson remained for a full hour and a half at the Telephone Exchange, anxiously awaiting any further corroboration. Many wild stories came over the wires telling how panic-stricken people were fleeing inland away from the enemy’s outposts. Then he took a hansom to the _Weekly Dispatch_ office, and proceeded to prepare a special edition of his paper--an edition containing surely the most amazing news that had ever startled London.