“Bombard London!”
“Yes, sir; it’s always done.”
Prince Otto pulled thoughtfully at his moustache.
“Bombard London! It seems—and yet—ah, well, they have few pleasures.”
He stood awhile in meditation. So did Captain von Poppenheim. He kicked a pebble. So did Captain von Poppenheim—only a smaller pebble. Discipline is very strict in the German army.
“Poppenheim.”
“Sir?”
“Any signs of our—er—competitors?”
“Yes, sir; the Russians are coming up on the left flank, sir. They’ll be here in a few hours. Raisuli has been arrested at Purley for stealing chickens. The army of Bollygolla is about ten miles out. No news of the field yet, sir.”
The Prince brooded. Then he spoke, unbosoming himself more freely than was his wont in conversation with his staff.
“Between you and me, Pop,” he cried impulsively, “I’m dashed sorry we ever started this dashed silly invading business. We thought ourselves dashed smart, working in the dark, and giving no sign till the great pounce, and all that sort of dashed nonsense. Seems to me we’ve simply dashed well landed ourselves in the dashed soup.”
Captain von Poppenheim saluted in sympathetic silence. He and the prince had been old chums at college. A life-long friendship existed between them. He would have liked to have expressed adhesion verbally to his superior officer’s remarks. The words “I don’t think” trembled on his tongue. But the iron discipline of the German Army gagged him. He saluted again and clicked his heels.
The Prince recovered himself with a strong effort.
“You say the Russians will be here shortly?” he said.
“In a few hours, sir.”
“And the men really wish to bombard London?”
“It would be a treat to them, sir.”
“Well, well, I suppose if we don’t do it, somebody else will. And we got here first.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then—”
An orderly hurried up and saluted.
“Telegram, sir.”
Absently the Prince opened it. Then his eyes lit up.
“Gotterdammerung!” he said. “I never thought of that. ‘Smash up London and provide work for unemployed mending it.—GRAYSON,’” he read. “Poppenheim.”
“Sir?”
“Let the bombardment commence.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And let it continue till the Russians arrive. Then it must stop, or there will be complications.”
Captain von Poppenheim saluted, and withdrew.
Chapter 6
THE BOMBARDMENT OF LONDON
Thus was London bombarded. Fortunately it was August, and there was nobody in town.
Otherwise there might have been loss of life.
Chapter 7
A CONFERENCE OF THE POWERS
The Russians, led by General Vodkakoff, arrived at Hampstead half an hour after the bombardment had ceased, and the rest of the invaders, including Raisuli, who had got off on an
The attraction was beginning to draw people back to London now. They found that the German shells had had one excellent result, they had demolished nearly all the London statues. And what might have conceivably seemed a draw-back, the fact that they had blown great holes in the wood-paving, passed unnoticed amidst the more extensive operations of the London County Council.
Taking it for all in all, the German gunners had simply been beautifying London. The Albert Hall, struck by a merciful shell, had come down with a run, and was now a heap of picturesque ruins; Whitefield’s Tabernacle was a charred mass; and the burning of the Royal Academy proved a great comfort to all. At a mass meeting in Trafalgar
