H. C. Bailey

“ Only one man loitered, hands in pockets, beneath the eaves. It was Dale, Mr. Craddock's prize-fighter. The torches showed him his master in front of the howling mob. Waiting calmly in the right place, he was swept on at Mr. Craddock's elbow—one clean man by another, helpless in a mob of beasts.
They dashed at the door of Miss Cranley's shop, and, kindling more torches, with knife and cudgel they beat upon the door, men and women fighting each other in their haste, half-naked, steaming, toiling like fiends. Mr. Bawdon halloed them on. ”

“ To help you to win your wager, find another maid.” Suddenly her cheeks were white and her voice shrill. “Go, bet on your fine ladies, not me!”
“You are in the right to punish me, child,” said Mr, Craddock gravely.
“Punish?” she laughed. “O la! how dare I presume? I'm only a beast to win money for you, the sister of your horse or your greyhound.”
“There's a relish when the dice are risking what's dearest,” said Mr. Craddock calmly. “Child, last night we trafficked with death together, and our lives found some strange matter of joy. ”

“ A warmer tone touched her cheek a moment; she bit her lip, but her eyes had begun to laugh. “The whole world,” said she, “is just to amuse Mr. Craddock.”
“And Mr. Craddock wholly to amuse you. Admire the scheme of existence.”
Miss Cranley admired it in a smile. Diffidently she put her hand to his roses.
An uncomely sound disturbed her. Another guest had come unannounced. Mr. Bawdon stood in the doorway, and saw her smile for Mr. Craddock, saw their hands together. Mr. Bawdon had been drinking to more purpose. His face wriggled. “You jilt! You Papist jilt!” ”

“ Craddock met Mr. Bawdon again. He was discovered upon a horseblock by Snow Hill, and a sturdy ruffian held a torch on either hand. He had gathered a wild horde of men and sexless women, and was driving them mad. He flung his arms out and aloft, and rolled his head, and roared and raved bombast, a drunken dithyramb of murder and ruin. ”

“ The great part of the mobs was made of honest folk enough, lusty fellows throbbing with strength unruled by disciplined brain, who plunged boisterously into a tumult as boys run to a bonfire, till they were drunk with disorder and ruin, and not to be reckoned sane. The madman led on to madness, and all the rogues of the town made their profit of it. It was an age quick with rude life, when the mass of common men, waking to knowledge of their freedom and their rights, had not heard that the use of either is hard enough to learn. ”

“ The picket found Mr. Bawdon's mob packed in the neck of Red Lion Street, wrangling about his miraculous position, and trying to get him out of it. Platoon firing sent most of them scurrying back to their holes; a bayonet charge, in which Mr. Bawdon, suspended from the railings, received ignominious wounds, swept the rest away. ”

“ They turned off towards Holborn, and when they laboured up Holborn Hill his blowings became articulate again: “Sir, no system of government will ever fortify a nation. It's a matter for each man in it.” ”

“ Miss Cranley ate a dinner in which amusement was tempered by agitation. Calm was not possible to a woman who had the misfortune to rouse the desires of one of Lord George Gordon's lieutenants. The impudent face might mean her no better than Mr. Bawdon, and to be honest. to be honest ... he gave her more fear.... For a sedative Miss Cranley began to darn stockings.
She had been two hours at this occupation when Mr. Craddock adventured again. He bore an engaging smile and a bunch of white roses. She flung back in her chair, startled, frightened, angry. ”