The River of Death | Page 7

their own, and that, whilst the common people were
allowanced, our law makers were sipping their coffee and tea and
whiskey and water as usual?
It was the usual coarse gibe to be expected from a paper of that type, an
arrow at venture. But for once the thing was true, seeing that the House
of Commons has a private supply of water drawn from a well of its
own. As a rule, the Banner carried very little weight, but the question
got into the people's mouths and became a catchword. A man had only
to pass a standpipe without a struggle in its direction, to be dubbed a
member of the House of Commons, i.e., the public want did not touch
him at all.
The blazing, panting day wore on. People were beginning faintly to
understand what a water famine might mean. Everybody was grimy and
tired; in the East and West alike dingy features could be seen. As night
fell small riots broke out here and there, people were robbed of their
precious fluid as they carried it along the streets. It had leaked out that
sundry shops in different parts of London had wells, and these
establishments were stormed and looted of their contents by thieves
who took advantage of the confusion. It was only by dint of the most
strenuous exertion that the police managed to keep the upper hand.
Another day or two of this and what would become of London? At
nightfall it became absolutely necessary to release some millions of

gallons of the condemned water for the flushing of the sewers. There
was danger here, but, on the whole, the danger was less than a wide
epidemic of diphtheria and fever. And there were people thirsty and
reckless enough to drink this water heedless of the consequences. With
characteristic imprudence, the East End had exhausted its dole early in
the day, and wild-eyed men raved through the streets yelling for more.
From time to time the police raided and broke up these dangerous
commandoes. A well-known democratic agitator came with a following
over Westminster Bridge and violently harangued a knot of his
followers in Palace Yard. The police were caught napping for the
moment. The burly red-faced demagogue looked round the swelling sea
of sullen features and pointed to the light in the clock tower. He started
spouting the froth of his tribe.
It was all the fault of the governing body, of course. They managed
things much better on the Continent.
"If you were men," he yelled, " you'd drag them out of yonder. You'd
make them come and work like the rest of us. What said the Banner
to-day? Your bloated rulers are all right; they don't want for anything.
At the present moment they have plenty of the water that you'd sell
your souls for."
"If you'll lead the way, we'll follow," said a voice hoarsely.
The orator glanced furtively around. There was not a single police
helmet to be seen, nothing but five or six hundred desperate men ready
for anything.
"Then come along," he yelled. "We'll make history to-night."
He strode towards the House followed by a yelling rnob. The few
police inside were tossed here and there like dry leaves in a flood; the
quiet decorum of the lobby was broken up, a white-faced member fled
into the chamber and declared that London was in riot and that a mob
of desperadoes were here bent on wrecking the mother of parliaments.

An interminable debate on some utterly useless question was in
progress, the Speaker nodded wearily under the weight of his robes and
wig, the green benches were dotted with members all utterly overcome
with the stifling heat. There was to be a big division about midnight, so
that the smoking-room and bars and terraces were full of members.
The Speaker looked up sharply. A stinging reproof was on the tip of his
tongue. He had scarcely uttered a word, before, as if by magic, the
green benches were swarming with the mob. It filled the chamber,
yelling and shouting. It was in vain that the Speaker tried to make his
voice heard above the din.
A glass of water and a bottle stood on the table before him. One of the
intruders more audacious than the rest snatched up the glass and
emptied it. A mighty roar of applause followed the audacious act. As
yet the mob was fairly good-humoured, though there was no knowing
what their mood would be presently.
"It's that confounded Banner," one member of the government groaned
to another. "They have come after our private supply. Can't one of you
get to the telephone and call up Scotland Yard?"
Meanwhile the mob were inclined to be sportive. They surged forward
to the table driving