the hour of twelve
there goes the flag at last . A little ball of white bunting creeps up from the gallery above the dark dome . It clears the railing under the pedestal , and climbs to the apex of the shining cross . As it does so the wild chorus of the bells suddenly ceases , and out of the silence that follows come the deep booming strokes of the great bell of St. Paul 's sounding the hour of twelve . As the last stroke dies away the ball bursts , and the White Ensign of Britain crossed by the Red Cross of St. George , and with the Jack in the corner , floats out defiantly on the breeze , greeted by the reawakening clamour of the bells , and a deep hoarse cry from millions of throats , that rolls like a vast sea of sound up the slopes to the encampments of the League . With an irrepressible cry of rage , Alexander dashed his field-glass to the ground , and shouted , in a voice broken with passion -- `` So ! They have tricked us .