It was one of Julius's schemes, one could tell by the careful choreography of dispersed urchins around the small square. My vantage point was inside Hubbard's watch and clock store, behind the counter close to the door. Unfortunately I could not see all goings on because of incoming customers and a view obstructed by merchandise. Whenever I could I tried to observe what exactly happened outside, but I have to admit that some is guesswork and I had to fill in the blanks here or there. Either way the result was the same and as would be expected of Julius, quite exceptional.

It all started around 7 in the morning. I had just opened the store and was cleaning the store's windows when I heard the sound of metal on metal, as if someone was pushing or pulling a sled over cobblestones. Quite frankly my first instinct was to hold up the windows for the screeching sound might break the glass. Perhaps I had been listening to Hubbard too long who ranted on about divas who could break a wine glass with the sound of their voice. The glass window did not break. I felt rather foolish and quickly looked around if anyone had seen me. Quickly I ducked into the store pulling the broom after me and before I had secured myself behind the counter I heard the noise again. This time I could actually see where it came from. Two urchins were pulling a small stall across the pavement and positioned it directly in the opening of our square. With a stall that small and an entry way as large as ours the urchins barely blocked the entrance. It looked quite natural sitting there, made of pieces of wood that obviously were not meant for that stall but instead one or more other objects that had fallen apart years ago. All in all it looked convincing as something a peddler would use. The two urchins rummaged around the newly created business opportunity and pretended to try to find the owner, as if they had not just put it there themselves.

After 5 minutes an older urchin appeared and chased the two younger ones away. This much larger child arranged something on the inside, rolled down a canvas construction that might even keep out the rain on a dry day and started to setup whatever were his wares. At this point there is a gap in my observations since the honorable James Dillarde, Esq. entered the store to pickup his precious watch. God knows why the man was obsessed with American watches. His argument was that the Americans had outdone the British by adding a cover to pocket watches to protect it from wear and tear. This did not make much sense to me until I understood that pocket watches were mainly used in America by railroad workers. A clever mechanism it must be said, but cumbersome in it's use and it completely hid the beautiful face. Even when the protective lid was opened it would not always reveal the full dial but typically be half opened. I prefer the British watches that are usually bigger and hang on ornately decorated fobs from one's vest. Even though Mr. Dillarde is peculiar about his watches he is a decent sort of gentleman and usually stays around to pick up some local news. Given my current situation of self-confinement I could not tell the good man anything of interest and instead I asked him about some of the latest. News gathering goes both ways and Mr. Dillarde has no problem volunteering his perspective on current world affairs. I was just being polite that morning and was not actually all that interested in the good man's opinion in the supply problems of our troops in the Crimean war. I nodded and agreed but did not encourage him to continue. Luckily he is a good and careful observer and figured out quite soon enough I had other matters on my mind. More importantly he was not offended in my refusal to indulge in political bickering this time. With a tip of the hat and many thanks for our services he took off, showing his American watch to two unfortunate ladies who's only goal was to get fresh bread and be home before the missus woke up.

The view was dismal and I could barely make out what the new kid was doing in the improvised stall. It didn't look like he was actually planning on selling anything. Instead he rummaged and prepared and looked generally busy. Hubbard had returned the previous evening from the opera and had left his opera glasses in the workshop. Quickly I retried the surprisingly strong binoculars and used them casually to peek through the shop curtains. Up close I could not discern anything different than I had already noticed before. A tall lanky kid was seemingly starting a day of sales, much like other merchant assistants do, with the difference that there was no actual merchant in this stall. Even though Julius was nowhere in sight, it clearly was one of his setups. Only he would go through the efforts of assembling a complete stall for his schemes. Usually when I see one of these plans come to fruition I would alert the people in the immediate neigbourhood and we let the kids play until things get out of hand and then we step in. Usually either a scheme ends in a massive urchin scramble or as had once occurred applause after a rather inventive scheme involving a dog and a stage play. Perhaps that one is worth mentioning in an upcoming Urchin Patrol. This current set of events looked much more elaborate and more serious than anything I had seen before and through my curiosity completely forgot to inform the adults.

Two new urchins appeared, small ones, who took up places on the opposite side of the street facing the stall. At least that's what it looked like at first. To my surprise Julius appeared with a large stack of paper and took up a spot next to the lanky guy who was still bustling about the stall. Newspapers of sorts were spread out in parcels over the stall's counter and various flyers were attached to the beams upholding the canvas roof-like structure. To hold down a pile of newspapers a stone was placed on top of each stack and after that Julius produced a high stool and sat down quietly overseeing his domain. Normally peddlers and sellers scream details of their wares to nearby customers and other potential buyers in Wales or Scotland. To add more curiosity neither Julius or the tall kid said anything, at least not visibly. By this time the store was moderately busy and by the time 11 'o clock came about I had lost track of the activity outside. When finally the noon chaos started in the clock store with the simultaneous sounding of all chimes, I had a chance to observe up close what the urchins were up to. Normally I have my lunch somewhere around the square but today I needed a better vantage point. Across the street, almost directly opposite the stall is one of Fleet Street's numerous printers. They have two benches directly outside the premises where office workers rest and smoke. Due to their work with flammable materials no one is allowed to smoke inside. I got there early with my lunch, which consisted of two paper wrapped sandwiches. It wasn't difficult to pretend I wasn't watching them, the hustle and bustle of Fleet Street is quite interesting by itself. Occasionally I would throw a glance towards the stall where Julius and his co-conspirator were pretending to read. This proved they were up to no good since none of the urchins could read or write. Perhaps Julius could but if he did he kept it well hidden. Next to me supplies were brought in and out on flat carriages pulled by two large horses. Paper rolls went in and boxes came out, presumably filled with paper. All this time I could not spot any additional urchins that may have been brought in. Not that I could remember but I could swear the two I saw earlier had been replaced by two different ones.

I reached over to grab the last of the sandwiches when a particularly large cart barreled out of the building. It took a sharp right turn into Fleet Street and nearly took the bench I sat on with it. When I managed to steady myself I noticed that Julius was still quietly reading but the other tall kid had disappeared. To my right a terrible crash made people turn and watch how a large barrel had fallen into the path of the horses. The driver panicked and attempted to pull the horses around but one could not help but hit the barrel with its front legs and fell down. The other horse moved on and tilted the cart on its side throwing the driver off his seat. In all the commotion I managed to remember paper. They make paper in the factory behind me. Julius had not moved but where was the other kid? I stood up, turned around the corner into the factory from where people were streaming now to see the upturned cart but no sign of the lanky urchin. I didn't need to look any further because whatever Julius was up to it was done and over with. The two little urchins who had stood watch were helping Julius close up the stall. They were pulling a small cart on wheels and in it they dumped whatever flyers and other paper they had out on display. Without thinking twice the stall was abandoned and the three urchins casually walked away leaving the stall where it stood. 

Thankfully the driver of the big cart was unharmed but the horse that hit the barrel was clearly lame. It stood with it's head down a bit off to the side with the other horse trying to get back onto it's legs. Constable Jones came running around a corner cursing and pushing the onlookers away. The factory workers who now realized they must be missed by the floor manager were slowly trickling back into the factory. Julius could have done one of two things, either he had the tall kid steal something from the warehouse or had something put in. Either way my guess was it should soon be apparent what this was, since his usual efforts included loud and visibly obvious pranks. He really only wanted to show he was capable of pulling off such a stunt and there was never any harm. I'm sure he regretted that the horse was hurt, but then again you never really knew with that kid, maybe he was only interested in the effect the barrel would have and saw the horse as something incidental. It was 12:30 right now and I remained there on the bench till it was one o clock. Nothing happened and everything seemed business as usual. Whatever Julius's stooge had carried in or out must have been small or something that would not be quickly noticed and he must have known exactly what it was he was after. Almost disappointed I returned to the store where the first customer was already waiting with a sorry looking wall clock.