I was goaded on most of all, perhaps, by the fear that I should be taken off by an ambulance--I heard that some were about--and, if so, that all I had achieved so far would have to be faced again, probably with renewed difficulty. Flashes of vivid light and the sound of a slight muffled explosion came about from time to time. I did not know what these were, they added to the sense of incomprehensibleness and general confusion. It was only towards the end of the day I realised that they were the newspaper photographers’ flashlights. The irony of their attentions seemed great.
It was cheering to find that in spite of everything I had gained ground and was quite near to the House. The police were now far less numerous, standing only in small groups of twos and threes. Several of these to my surprise let me pass quite close by them unmolested. The prospect of actually entering the House seemed now not unattainable. My utterly dishevelled condition, my inability for want of breath to stand upright or to string more than two words together at a time, should have enhanced the nightmare of possibly being admitted to the presence of the Prime Minister. But strange to say that fear had left me. The instinct for achievement engendered by the rebuffs of the police, the indignation aroused by the fact that such treatment of a deputation of voteless citizens had been deliberately ordered and sanctioned by the Government, had for the moment cured all fears as to my personal inadequacy as a spokesman. I found myself at the gates of the members’ entrance. No crowd was near and only two policemen stood, ordinary wise, at either side of the gate. They did not seem to be noticing me. I straightened my back to assume as much of a normal appearance as possible. I passed through the gate. At this the policeman nearest to me turned and seized my arm. Expecting to be thrown as before, I tried to hold my ground and said, “Please let me pass,” or words to that effect. Another policeman promptly took me by the other arm and I was led off at a great pace. The effort to try and realise what was happening seemed to use up the last remnant of physical power at my disposal. I supposed I was being led away, as I had been warned was sometimes done as a means of disheartening the women, to some distant and lonely street. But there was nothing of roughness or insult in the attitude of the police who held me. I thought perhaps I had fainted or fallen without knowing it and that they were ambulance men. I felt unable to cope with the problem, my eyes shut and my head fell forward. We seemed to be going a long way. “How shall I ever get back from here,” I wondered. Presently there was an alteration in the sounds of our footsteps and in the gestures of the men. I opened my eyes and looked up. Close in front of me, over a doorway, was a blue lamp with the words “Police Station” printed upon it. I knew then that I had been arrested. The discovery was positively life-giving. To think that it was over, that the struggle would not have to begin all over again! I was able to lift my head and walk fairly easily; the crushing sense of failure was gone. When anticipating events, and trying to prepare myself for the various stages of the ordeal before me, I had supposed that one of the worst moments would be this of being actually “had up,” when I should find myself in the police station and know the first step towards prison had been taken; that there could be no going back. When it came to actual experience, Cannon Row police station had all the attractions of a harbour after a storm. From the moment I set foot inside this domain of the police nothing could exceed their courtesy and even sympathy. In a large, nondescript kind of waiting room I was taken up to a table at which a policeman sat making entries in a ledger. I was asked my name, address, age, vocation, etc. I wondered whether I was the only one that had been arrested, but presently two more of the Deputation came in. The delight at seeing again some of my companions was very great; it was only then I fully realised how the isolation from the others had added to the toil and gruesomeness of the struggle in Parliament Square. We were taken up to a large sort of club room, in which there were billiard tables. Several of the Deputation were already there. We were eager, of course, to hear each other’s experiences. I quickly realised that I had had an unusually good time of it. Several of them had been thrown on to the ground, some kicked, one had had her thumb dislocated, another had a sprained ankle. One had her face streaming with blood from a blow on the nose. Before long Mrs. Pethick Lawrence joined us.