In a trice the London Police were on the alert.
GYPSY AND GINGER MOVE ON
When the Policeman on the Strand Beat blew his whistle, it was heard by every Policeman on every confine of London. But it was not heard in Trafalgar Square, because the party was by this time at its height. And while the Moonshiners sang and danced and rioted with the children, the policemen were answering the summons from Ealing to Barking, and from Crowdon to Crouch End. Through the silent streets they streamed in hundreds, like blue fire streaming noiselessly around a Christmas Pudding. From all points of the compass they converged on Trafalgar Square.
Before they knew it, the Moonshiners were encircled.
It was the Night Watchman who gave the alarm, too late. Even he had been caught napping for once. He had been competing at Catherine Wheels with the Evening Newsboy when he ought to have been keeping an eye on the night. But now, as the foe advanced in massed formation through Pall Mall and Whitehall, the Strand and St. Martin’s Lane, he scented them like a hound and cried: “The Police!”
Dead silence fell upon Trafalgar Square. Only the ex-Professor made any demonstration, and that was a mute one. Meekly, yet carelessly, he bowed to right and left.
“What are we going to do?” whispered Ginger.
The Moonshiners drew together and consulted. The Taxi-Man was for defying the foe, but Ginger said,
“Think of the children.”