The Swoop | Page 9

but I confess I admire Fry's robust
driving."
The Russian was won over. He extended his hand.
"Two down and three to play, and the red near the top corner pocket,"
he said with that half-Oriental charm which he knew so well how to
exhibit on occasion.
The two shook hands warmly.
And so it was settled, the Russian having, as we have seen, waived his
claim to bombard London in his turn, there was no obstacle to a
peaceful settlement. It was obvious that the superior forces of the
Germans and Russians gave them, if they did but combine, the key to
the situation. The decision they arrived at was, as set forth above, as
follows. After the fashion of the moment, the Russian and German
generals decided to draw the Colour Line. That meant that the troops of
China, Somaliland, Bollygolla, as well as Raisuli and the Young Turks,
were ruled out. They would be given a week in which to leave the
country. Resistance would be useless. The combined forces of the
Germans, Russians, Swiss, and Monacoans were overwhelming,

especially as the Chinese had not recovered from their wanderings in
Wales and were far too footsore still to think of serious fighting.
When they had left, the remaining four Powers would continue the
invasion jointly.
* * * * *
Prince Otto of Saxe-Pfennig went to bed that night, comfortably
conscious of a good work well done. He saw his way now clear before
him.
But he had made one miscalculation. He had not reckoned with
Clarence Chugwater.

Part Two

Chapter 1
IN THE BOY SCOUTS' CAMP
Night!
Night in Aldwych!
In the centre of that vast tract of unreclaimed prairie known to
Londoners as the Aldwych Site there shone feebly, seeming almost to
emphasise the darkness and desolation of the scene, a single light.
It was the camp-fire of the Boy Scouts.
The night was raw and windy. A fine rain had been falling for some
hours. The date of September the First. For just a month England had
been in the grip of the invaders. The coloured section of the hostile
force had either reached its home by now, or was well on its way. The
public had seen it go with a certain regret. Not since the visit of the
Shah had such an attractive topic of conversation been afforded them.

Several comic journalists had built up a reputation and a large price per
thousand words on the King of Bollygolla alone. Theatres had
benefited by the index of a large, new, unsophisticated public. A piece
at the Waldorf Theatre had run for a whole fortnight, and "The Merry
Widow" had taken on a new lease of life. Selfridge's, abandoning its
policy of caution, had advertised to the extent of a quarter of a column
in two weekly papers.
Now the Young Turks were back at school in Constantinople, shuffling
their feet and throwing ink pellets at one another; Raisuli, home again
in the old mountains, was working up the kidnapping business, which
had fallen off sadly in his absence under the charge of an incompetent
_locum tenens_; and the Chinese, the Bollygollans, and the troops of
the Mad Mullah were enduring the miseries of sea-sickness out in
mid-ocean.
The Swiss army had also gone home, in order to be in time for the
winter hotel season. There only remained the Germans, the Russians,
and the troops of Monaco.
* * * * *
In the camp of the Boy Scouts a vast activity prevailed.
Few of London's millions realise how tremendous and far-reaching an
association the Boy Scouts are. It will be news to the Man in the Street
to learn that, with the possible exception of the Black Hand, the Scouts
are perhaps the most carefully-organised secret society in the world.
Their ramifications extend through the length and breadth of England.
The boys you see parading the streets with hockey-sticks are but a
small section, the aristocrats of the Society. Every boy in England, and
many a man, is in the pay of the association. Their funds are practically
unlimited. By the oath of initiation which he takes on joining, every
boy is compelled to pay into the common coffers a percentage of his
pocket-money or his salary. When you drop his weekly three and
sixpence into the hand of your office-boy on Saturday, possibly you
fancy he takes it home to mother. He doesn't. He spend two-and-six on

Woodbines. The other shilling goes into the treasury of the Boy Scouts.
When you visit your nephew at Eton, and tip him five pounds or
whatever it is, does he spend it at the sock-shop? Apparently, yes. In
reality, a quarter reaches the common fund.
Take another case, to show the Boy Scouts' power.