ags of Latin, the friendship of Moll, and a casual threat of
exposure frightened the Governor into acquiescence, but the Ordinary was
more difficult of conciliation. The Clerk had not been long in Newgate
before he saw that between the reverend gentleman and himself there
could be naught save war. Hitherto the Ordinary had reserved to his
own profit the right of intrigue; he it was who had received the
hard-scraped money of the sorrowing relatives, and untied the noose when
it seemed good to him. Briscoe insisted upon a division of labour. 'It
is your business,' he said, 'to save the scoundrels in the other world.
Leave to me the profit of their salvation in this.' And the Clerk
triumphed after his wont: freedom jingled in his pocket; he doled out
comfort, even life, to the oppressed; and he extorted a comfortable
fortune in return for privileges which were never in his gift.

Without the walls of Newgate the house of his frequentation was the 'Dog
Tavern.' Thither he would wander every afternoon to meet his clients and
to extort blood-money. In this haunt of criminals and pettifoggers no
man was better received than the Newgate Clerk, and while he assumed a
manner of generous cordiality, it was a strange sight to see him wince
when some sturdy ruffian slapped him too strenuously upon the back. He
had a joke and a chuckle for all, and his merry quips, dry as they were,
were joyously quoted to all new-comers. His legal ingenuity appeared
miraculous, and it was confidently asserted in the Coffee House that he
could turn black to white with so persuasive an argument that there was
no Judge on the Bench to confute him. But he was not omnipotent, and his
zeal encountered many a serious check. At times he failed to save the
necks even of his intimates, since, when once a ruffian was notorious,
Moll and the Clerk fought vainly for his release. Thus it was that
Cheney, the famous wrestler, whom Ralph had often backed against all
comers, died at Tyburn. He had been taken by the troopers red-handed
upon the highway. Seized after a desperate resistance, he was wounded
wellnigh to death, and Briscoe quoted a dozen precedents to prove that
he was unfit to be tried or hanged. Argument failing, the munificent
Clerk offered fifty pounds for the life of his friend. But to no
purpose: the valiant wrestler was carried to the cart in a chair, and so
lifted to the gallows, which cured him of his gaping wounds.

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