Panic-stricken, the mob surged down the side streets to the Embankment, only to find that similar barriers had been erected at either end. Then the forts at every point opened fire, and with terrible results. The scenes that followed I do not wish further to describe, except to say that, for the present at least, the rout of the leaderless rebels was complete, and only a shattered section escaped to press on to Buckingham Palace, the point to which all contingents of that great army had been instructed to converge.
CHAPTER XXXVI.
PRINCE DUMPLING.
At Charing Cross, soon after the defeat and dispersion of the rebels, I had caught sight of a face which set my heart beating wildly—the proud, pale face of Kate, who was sitting at the window of a hotel. Sending up my name, I was at once admitted, Kate clinging to me, and crying over me, as if I were a soldier returned from the wars.
"I won't leave you again, darling," I said, "no matter what you or your aunt may command or urge. How is that kindest of friends of mine?"
"I haven't seen her since soon after you—you—you—left us," was the reply. "She went away by herself on some important business, and was to have returned to-day to Taunton Square, where I have been staying for the last week by myself. But something happened there that—that frightened and upset me, Max dear, so I came on here, and left word to Aunt Clara where to find me. Ah! here she is."
Miss Clara kissed first Kate and then me, after which, turning to her niece, she said:
"What was it that frightened you and drove you away from Taunton Square? The rioters?"
"No, aunt. I—I—hardly know how to tell you and Max. It was so terrible. It was—it was—the Dumpling."
"The Dumpling!" exclaimed Miss Clara and I together.