visions, within easy reach of the most crowded
thoroughfares when needed.

All the men in this branch of the service have been thoroughly trained
in horsemanship, and those who have seen them at work on their adroit
horses, keeping back a mass of pushing, struggling people, or
dexterously dispersing a threatening crowd, know their worth as
maintainers of order.

Both the Executive and Statistical Departments are concerned with
reports which are the basis of all discipline and organisation in the
Metropolitan Police. The first--"The Morning Report"--is compiled by the
superintendents of divisions, and passed and commented upon by the Chief
Constables in charge of districts.

This is London's bill of criminal health. It shows what has happened
beyond the ordinary over seven hundred square miles in the preceding
twenty-four hours. A murder, a riot, a robbery, a fire, a street
collision--all things are recorded. Every police station, it should be
said, keeps an "Occurrence Book" and it is from this that the reports
are compiled.

Then there is the "Morning Report of Crime." This is largely the work of
the divisional detective-inspectors. Every crime for which a person can
be indicted is included here, and an elaborate report of the steps that
have been taken. Comments are made upon this by both the Chief Constable
of the district and the Assistant-Commissioner of the
C.I.D.--commendations, reprimands, suggestions.

The third report is the "Morning State," which deals with matters of
internal administration of the force itself--numbers available,
disciplinary matters, affairs of health.

All these reports ultimately reach the departments for record and for
the transmission of orders.

CHAPTER XII.

THE SAILOR POLICE.

Fantastic reflections dappled the Pool of London--reflections from the
riding lights of ships at anchor, and the brighter glare of the lamps of
the bridges. They danced eerily on the swift-running waters of the
river, intensifying the gloom of the black waters. Here and there the
darker blur marked where a line of barges was moored.

The police-boat, its motor chug-chugging noisily, slipped
unostentatiously behind one of the tiers of lighters. To my untrained
eyes it was incredible that in the labyrinth of craft, amid the
darkness, we should be able to pick our way. Yet deftly, unerringly, the
inspector moved the tiller, while two constables kept keen eyes on the
motley assembly of vessels