At first these rumours were disregarded as idle tales, wholly destitute of foundation, for nobody in Scotland-yard doubted that if the Lord Mayor contemplated any such dark design, he would just be clapped up in the Tower for a week or two, and then killed off for high treason.
By degrees, however, the reports grew stronger, and more frequent, and at last a barge, laden with numerous chaldrons of the best Wallsend, brought up the positive intelligence that several of the arches of the old bridge were stopped, and that preparations were actually in progress for constructing the new one.

What an excitement was visible in the old tap-room on that memorable night! Each man looked into his neighbour's face, pale with alarm and astonishment, and read therein an echo of the sentiments which filled his own breast.

The oldest heaver present proved to demonstration, that the moment the piers were removed, all the water in the Thames would run clean off, and leave a dry gully in its place.
What was to become of the coal-barges--of the trade of Scotland-yard--of the very existence of its population?
The tailor shook his head more sagely than usual, and grimly pointing to a knife on the table, bid them wait and see what happened.

He said nothing--not he; but if the Lord Mayor didn't fall a victim to popular indignation, why he would be rather astonished; that was all.
They did wait; barge after barge arrived, and still no tidings of the assassination of the Lord Mayor.

The first stone was laid: it was done by a Duke--the King's brother.