Excerpt from The Battle of the Safes It was on the morning of the thirteenth of August, 1 86 7 - a day for ever memorable in the chronology of safe-making, that on a grassy knoll at the rearward portal of the Testing House, a select party of citizens of the world were gathered together, - waiting. Something like anxiety, something like stern and fateful preoccupation tempered the light-heartedness of the knot of gentlemen who stood on the turf, sheltering them selves as well as they could in the shadow thrown by shrubs or under umbrellas from the fierce rays of the August sun, and waiting for the doors to be opened and the show to begin. But it was more than a show which was in preparation: It was a struggle from which - as something too stern and rough for their tender feelings-ladies were to be rigorously excluded. A great conflict was on the tapis-a great battle was imminent. This was the morning of Waterloo. The Duke of Welling ton, otherwise Samuel Chatwood, of Bolton, Lancashire, was to encounter Napoleon Bonaparte, alias Silas Herring.

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