The next day was ushered in by merry peals of bells, and by thefiring of the Tower guns; flags were hoisted on many of the church-steeples; the usual demonstrations were made in honour of theanniversary of the King"s birthday; and every man went about hispleasure or business as if the city were in perfect order, andthere were no half-smouldering embers in its secret places, which,on the approach of night, would kindle up again and scatter ruinand dismay abroad. The leaders of the riot, rendered still moredaring by the success of last night and by the booty they hadacquired, kept steadily together, and only thought of implicatingthe mass of their followers so deeply that no hope of pardon orreward might tempt them to betray their more notorious confederatesinto the hands of justice.
Indeed, the sense of having gone too far to be forgiven, held thetimid together no less than the bold. Many who would readily havepointed out the foremost rioters and given evidence against them,felt that escape by that means was hopeless, when their every acthad been observed by scores of people who had taken no part in thedisturbances; who had suffered in their persons, peace, orproperty, by the outrages of the mob; who would be most willingwitnesses; and whom the government would, no doubt, prefer to anyKing"s evidence that might be offered. Many of this class haddeserted their usual occupations on the Saturday morning; some hadbeen seen by their employers active in the tumult; others knew theymust be suspected, and that they would be discharged if theyreturned; others had been desperate from the beginning, andcomforted themselves with the homely proverb, that, being hanged atall, they might as well be hanged for a sheep as a lamb. They allhoped and believed, in a greater or less degree, that thegovernment they seemed to have paralysed, would, in its terror,come to terms with them in the end, and suffer them to make theirown conditions. The least sanguine among them reasoned withhimself that, at the worst, they were too many to be all punished,and that he had as good a chance of escape as any other man. Thegreat mass never reasoned or thought at all, but were stimulated bytheir own headlong passions, by poverty, by ignorance, by the loveof mischief, and the hope of plunder.
One other circumstance is worthy of remark; and that is, that fromthe moment of their first outbreak at Westminster, every symptom oforder or preconcerted arrangement among them vanished. When theydivided into parties and ran to different quarters of the town, itwas on the spontaneous suggestion of the moment. Each partyswelled as it went along, like rivers as they roll towards the sea;new leaders sprang up as they were wanted, disappeared when thenecessity was over, and reappeared at the next crisis. Each tumulttook shape and form from the circumstances of the moment; soberworkmen, going home from their day"s labour, were seen to cast downtheir baskets of tools and become rioters in an instant; mere boyson errands did the like. In a word, a moral plague ran through thecity. The noise, and hurry, and excitement, had for hundreds andhundreds an attraction they had no firmness to resist. Thecontagion spread like a dread fever: an infectious madness, as yetnot near its height, seized on new victims every hour, and societybegan to tremble at their ravings.
It was between two and three o"clock in the afternoon whenGashford looked into the lair described in the last chapter, andseeing only Barnaby and Dennis there, inquired for Hugh.
He was out, Barnaby told him; had gone out more than an hour ago;and had not yet returned.
"Dennis!" said the smiling secretary, in his smoothest voice, as hesat down cross-legged on a barrel, "Dennis!"
The hangman struggled into a sitting posture directly, and with hiseyes wide open, looked towards him.
"How do you do, Dennis?" said Gashford, nodding. "I hope you havesuffered no inconvenience from your late exertions, Dennis?"
"I always will say of you, Muster Gashford," returned the hangman,staring at him, "that that "ere quiet way of yours might almostwake a dead man. It is," he added, with a muttered oath--stillstaring at him in a thoughtful manner--"so awful sly!"
"So distinct, eh Dennis?"
"Distinct!" he answered, scratching his head, and keeping his eyesupon the secretary"s face; "I seem to hear it, Muster Gashford, inmy wery bones."
"I am very glad your sense of hearing is so sharp, and that Isucceed in making myself so intelligible," said Gashford, in hisunvarying, even tone. "Where is your friend?"
Mr Dennis looked round as in expectation of beholding him asleepupon his bed of straw; then remembering he had seen him go out,replied:
"I can"t say where he is, Muster Gashford, I expected him backafore now. I hope it isn"t time that we was busy, MusterGashford?"
"Nay," said the secretary, "who should know that as well as you?
How can I tell you, Dennis? You are perfect master of your ownactions, you know, and accountable to nobody--except sometimes tothe law, eh?"
Dennis, who was very much baffled by the cool matter-of-coursemanner of this reply, recovered his self-possession on hisprofessional pursuits being referred to, and pointing towardsBarnaby, shook his head and frowned.
"Hush!" cried Barnaby.
"Ah! Do hush about that, Muster Gashford," said the hangman in alow voice, "pop"lar prejudices--you always forget--well, Barnaby,my lad, what"s the matter?"
"I hear him coming," he answered: "Hark! Do you mark that? That"shis foot! Bless you, I know his step, and his dog"s too. Tramp,tramp, pit-pat, on they come together, and, ha ha ha!--and herethey are!" he cried, joyfully welcoming Hugh with both hands, andthen patting him fondly on the back, as if instead of being therough companion he was, he had been one of the most prepossessingof men. "Here he is, and safe too! I am glad to see him backagain, old Hugh!"
"I"m a Turk if he don"t give me a warmer welcome always than anyman of sense," said Hugh, shaking hands with him with a kind offerocious friendship, strange enough to see. "How are you, boy?"
"Hearty!" cried Barnaby, waving his hat. "Ha ha ha! And merrrytoo, Hugh! And ready to do anything for the good cause, and theright, and to help the kind, mild, pale-faced gentleman--the lordthey used so ill--eh, Hugh?"