down, thinking of things that had happened long ago, when he heard a
servant-man at an upper window call to another on the opposite side of
the street, that the mob were setting fire to Newgate.

To Newgate! where that man was! His failing strength returned, his
energies came back with tenfold vigour, on the instant. If it were
possible--if they should set the murderer free--was he, after all he had
undergone, to die with the suspicion of having slain his own brother,
dimly gathering about him--

He had no consciousness of going to the jail; but there he stood, before
it. There was the crowd wedged and pressed together in a dense, dark,
moving mass; and there were the flames soaring up into the air. His head
turned round and round, lights flashed before his eyes, and he struggled
hard with two men.

'Nay, nay,' said one. 'Be more yourself, my good sir. We attract
attention here. Come away. What can you do among so many men?'

'The gentleman's always for doing something,' said the other, forcing
him along as he spoke. 'I like him for that. I do like him for that.'

They had by this time got him into a court, hard by the prison. He
looked from one to the other, and as he tried to release himself, felt
that he tottered on his feet. He who had spoken first, was the old
gentleman whom he had seen at the Lord Mayor's. The other was John
Grueby, who had stood by him so manfully at Westminster.

'What does this mean?' he asked them faintly. 'How came we together?'

'On the skirts of the crowd,' returned the distiller; 'but come with us.
Pray come with us. You seem to know my friend here?'

'Surely,' said Mr Haredale, looking in a kind of stupor at John.

'He'll tell you then,' returned the old gentleman, 'that I am a man
to be trusted. He's my servant. He was lately (as you know, I have no
doubt) in Lord George Gordon's service; but he left it, and brought,
in pure goodwill to me and others, who are marked by the rioters, such
intelligence as he had picked up, of their designs.'

--'On one condition, please, sir,' said John, touching his hat. No
evidence against my lord--a misled man--a kind-hearted man, sir. My lord
never intended this.'

'The condition will be observed, of course,' rejoined the old distiller.
'It's a point of honour. But come with us, sir; pray come with us.'

John Grueby added no entreaties, but he adopted a different kind of
persuasion, by putting his arm through one of Mr Haredale's, while his