The Lady Mayoress who held office at the critical period that had now arrived was a devoted ally of the Vice-President, and bent on advancing in every possible way the authority and interests of her sex. To this end the Corporation, which had largely subsidised the new branch tube, had solicitously waited the opportunity to entertain the acting representative of government in honour of the occasion. On the day of the banquet, the principal City streets presented their normal appearance to the eyes of all ordinary observers. The Vice-President and her supporters were to travel to the Guildhall by the new route. There was no occasion, therefore, for decoration, or for the special services of the military, or even of the police. Nevertheless, large numbers of uniformed men might have been observed moving through the side streets in small parties. In the neighbourhood of the General Post Office and of the Guildhall these numbers rapidly increased as the hour appointed for the function drew near. At the same time there were similar musters in the immediate vicinity of the Houses of Parliament, the War Office, the Admiralty, and other public offices. There was no apparent connection between these various groups, but in reality they were acting in complete unison. They had the same password--"the Phoenix"--and were directed from one and the same centre. In a word, one and all, these men were Friends of the Phoenix. Towards afternoon, when Londoners began to look for the early editions of the evening papers, which were expected to contain a summarised report of the Vice-President's speech in the City, extraordinary rumours began to spread throughout the Capital; and in the Clubs, the restaurants, the railway stations, and in the streets groups of men and women engaged in eager and excited discussion. The impatience of the public became uncontrollable. Crowds besieged the news-vendors' shops, and clamoured at the railway bookstalls. Even the newspaper offices were invaded, and when, at length, copies of the evening journals were available, hosts of people struggled fiercely to secure them. Scenes of extraordinary tumult were witnessed. The newsboys, tearing through the streets on their bicycles, were waylaid. Men fought and scrambled for copies of the papers, and as placard after placard appeared, public excitement was augmented until it reached the verge of frenzy. A COUP D'ÉTAT. REIGN OF WOMAN ENDS. RENSHAW RETURNS.