They'd come out into Pall Mall, which was lined with pleasant houses. Daniel was already eyeing their windows and roof-lines, collecting ideas. But Roger kept his eye on the procession, which was nearly upon them: several hundred more or less typical Londoners, albeit with a higher than usual number of Dissident, and even a few Anglican, preachers. They were carrying an effigy, dangling from the top of a long pole: a straw man dressed in ecclesiastical robes, but whorishly colored and adorned, with a huge mitre affixed to his head, and a long bishop's crook lashed to one mitt. The Pope. Daniel and Roger stood to one side and watched for (according to Roger's watch) a hundred and thirty-four seconds as the crowd marched by them and drained out of the street into St. James's Park. They chose a place in clear view of both St. James's Palace and Whitehall Palace, and planted the pole in the dirt.