“Send out to them and inquire,” he commanded.
Lieutenant Dobson was sent forth once more, accompanied by a private bearing a flag of truce. He returned in even less time than before. The answer he bore was that no further information would be furnished; no further delay granted. Unless the King and everyone within the mansion made unconditional surrender within three minutes after the return of the flag of truce, an attack would be begun forthwith.
Captain Bingham reported at once to His Majesty.
“Ah, they appear, then, to know positively that We are here!” said the King.
“Evidently, Sire,” replied Captain Bingham.
“What remains, then to be done?”
“Nothing, Sire,” answered Captain Bingham, with grim determination, “except for the Guards to defend this house and those within it while one stone stands upon another and while there is one man left upon his feet!”
As he spoke there was a sound of rending, of tearing and of disrupted masonry on the eastern side of the mansion.
“The attack has begun, Sire!” said Captain Bingham. “I would ask your permission to return to my men.” And with a bow as courtly and as deferential as if he were standing in the great ball-room of the palace, Captain Richard Bingham backed from the royal presence and returned to his men.
As soon as he reached his post at the head of the main stairway, Captain Bingham quickly perceived that the attack had been renewed by the air-ships and that it was directed by hurling explosives against the eastern wall of the building. So powerful were these explosives that a great gaping aperture soon appeared, stretching from window to window, wide and deep enough to have admitted a motor of the largest type. The attack was then shifted to the front of the house and the front wall blown open in a similar manner. Then, with a crash, the whole of the great front door was blown in.