As was generally expected, there was a most exciting and most unusual scene outside the police-court on the morning appointed for the examination.
On Friday comparatively few people knew that Peace was to be brought before the magistrates, but almost as soon as it was opened the court was crowded to its utmost capacity, the approaches were lined with excited people eager to gain but a glance at the prisoner or Mrs. Dyson, and in the hall on the ground floor were several hundred people who were unable to get upstairs.
Outside a mob surged to and fro, obstructing the traffic in Castle-street, and several free fights occurred between people whose only object seemed to be to get nearer the Town Hall door without the faintest hope of getting in.
This was the state of things when it was not generally known that the proeedings of the Police-court presented a feature of unusual attraction.
But when it had been announced by the stipendiary, and announced in the papers, and was known by everybody, that the prisoner had been “remanded until Wednesday morning at ten o’clock,” and that Mrs. Dyson was to be cross-examined, it was generally anticipated that a crowd such as had never before been attracted to the Police-court would besiege the building. Some fears were entertained even that serious results might follow from the immense crush when the doors were opened and everybody in the large crowd made an almost superhuman individual effort to occupy one of the small number of places set apart for the gratification of the public.
The Chief Constable accordingly took every precaution to guard against the rash and ill-judged violence of an excited crowd.
A large staff of police-officers were marshalled in front of the Town Hall, their instructions being to keep the crowd moving as long as possible.
They found on arriving that they had been forestalled by the public, who had already assembled to the number of about 200, and were being rapidly reinforced.
Some of the people who were there had, it is said, taken up their positions as early as five o’clock, and verily they looked it. The cold, raw air had exercised to the full its nipping influence upon them.
Their faces were pallid, with just a dash of blue in the lips, and a dab of carnation on the tip of the nose. Their shoulders were raised almost to their ears, and their coats drawn carefully round their throats.