"Officers, do your duty. Arrest that man."
They were the last words he was to speak on earth, for as they passed his lips the Dumpling raised a hand.
"God's will be done!" he said. "I can say no more. Riflemen, make ready! Present! Fire!"
The result was what he had foretold. The gallant little band of police fell, dead or dying, almost to a man.
CHAPTER XXXIII.
THE BATTLE OF TOWER HILL.
From that moment onward the rebels carried all before them. The first encounter with soldiery was at London Fields, where a regiment of militia, hastily summoned from a neighbouring barracks, was drawn up. The militia showed more discretion than the police, for after discharging one volley, and being raked by a withering fire from the rebel sharp-shooters in return, they retreated in disorder.
This time the Dumpling was less merciful.
"They have deliberately raised hand against the people, to do murder!" he said. "And by the God whose instrument I am, for every life they have taken, a score of them shall fall!"
Instructions were given to the rebel riflemen to continue firing so long as one of the soldiers remained within range. The result was disastrous to the retreating troops. In an open space with no available cover, they could be picked off one after the other by the Dumpling's practised marksmen, with the result that scarcely a round dozen escaped to tell the tale.