The caravan went unnoticed by the general public as it trundled up Middlesex Street and when it turned away from Petticoat Lane and onto Commercial Street, no head turned as it passed them by. Only the dogs were aware that something was not quite right, sensing danger in the middle of the mayhem that was the busy and vibrant gentrified East End of London. They strained at their leads and suffered the wrath of their owners, who yanked them back into line, unaware that their hounds were trying to protect them. A mounted policeman was forced to rein his horse in when it unexpectedly bolted. It had been trained to remain calm, steady in the midst of a riot, and unflinching when spurred into danger, but for some reason, the horse had lost its head.
At the top of Commercial Street the caravan t
