Five minutes—ten minutes passed. The shouting of military commands in German came up from Whitehall below. Nothing else broke the quiet.
Von Kronhelm, his face more furrowed and more serious, again paced the carpet.
Suddenly the little instrument whirred, and clicked as its thin green tape rolled out.
In an instant the Generalissimo of the Kaiser's army sprang to the telegraphist's side and read the Imperial command.
For a moment he held the piece of tape between his fingers, then crushed it in his hand and stood motionless.
He had received orders which, though against his desire, he was compelled to obey.
Summoning several members of his staff who had installed themselves in other comfortable rooms in the vicinity, he held a long consultation with them.
In the meantime telegraphic despatches were received from Sheffield, Manchester, Birmingham, and other German headquarters, all telling the same story—the complete investment and occupation of the big cities and the pacification of the inhabitants.
One hour's grace was, however, allowed to London—till noon.
Then orders were issued, bugles rang out across the parks, and in the main thoroughfares, where arms were piled, causing the troops to fall in, and within a quarter of an hour large bodies of infantry and engineers were moving along the Strand, in the direction of the City.