ed to be ladies; but he was too well used to blows
to heed them over much, and could generally give as good as he got.

The fighting instinct often got him into tight places, as when he
suddenly found himself surrounded by a hooting mob of ruffians in
one of the slums of "Alsatia," as Whitefriars was called, where he
had imprudently adventured himself. And this adventure might have
well had a fatal termination for him, as this was a veritable den
of murderers and villains of the deepest dye, and even the
authorities dared not venture within its purlieus to hunt out a
missing criminal without a guard of soldiers with them. The abuse
of "Sanctuary" was well exemplified by the existing state of things
here; and though Cuthbert was doing no ill to any soul, but merely
gratifying his curiosity by prowling about the narrow dens and
alleys, the cry of "A spy! a spy!" soon brought a mob about him,
whilst his readiness to engage in battle caused the tumult to
redouble itself in an instant.

The lad had just realized his danger, and faced the fact that the
chances of escaping alive were greatly against him, when a window
in a neighbouring house was thrown open, and a stern, musical voice
exclaimed:

"For shame, my children, for shame! Is it to be one against a
hundred? Is that Alsatia's honour? What has the lad done?"

Cuthbert raised his eyes and beheld the tonsured head of a priest
clad in a rusty black cassock, who was standing at the only window
to be seen in a blank wall somewhat higher than that of the other
houses surrounding it. The effect of those words on the angry
multitude was wonderful. The hands raised to strike were lowered,
and voices on all sides exclaimed:

"It is Father Urban; we may not withstand him."

Still the anger of the mob was not calmed in a moment, and fierce
voices exclaimed in threatening accents:

"A spy! he is a spy!"

"Then bring him hither to me; I will judge him," said the priest,
in the same tones of calm assurance. "If I find him worthy of
death, I will give him over to your hands again."

"That will do; Father Urban shall judge him!" cried a brawny fellow
who seemed to be something of a leader with his fellows. "The
Father never lied to us yet. He will give him back if he finds him
a spy."

Cuthbert was now jostled and hustled, but not in the same angry
fashion, to a small narrow door in a deep embrasure, and when this
door presently swung back on its hinges, the crowd surged q