As dawn broke, a sparse crowd began gathering in the square in front of Scotland Yard.
The October fog hung like a gray silk curtain over the streets of London, carrying the dampness of the Thames River and the charred smell of Westminster Palace.
At eight o'clock sharp, the Scotland Yard bell didn't ring, yet the officers were already in position.
"Farewell to Officer Robert Cali," October 11, 1834, The Times
Line after line of officers streamed out of Scotland Yard, each adorned with black satin armbands. Their uniforms were pressed, boots polished to a shine, even the police badges glinted coldly in the subdued sunlight.
Over a hundred officers in blue-black uniforms formed a square in front of Scotland Yard. There were no honor guards, no noisy drumbeats, only the rhythmic click of old leather boots against cobblestones and the flapping of ribbons in the wind.
For the police, days off have always been a luxury.
