"It's a miserable weakness to be afraid of bloodshed. Let us part in peace. Wild here presently, and I wouldn't for the world—Zounds!" he exclaimed, as the figure of the thief-taker appeared at the wicket, "here he is. It was at his side below the breast, hidden by the dark colour of his close-fitting jacket. Perhaps these few words were the first real conscious words he had uttered in days. As concertmaster, it was Lucy’s duty to seat the orchestra as well as tune them. While he was thus standing, the flames of his house, which made the whole street as light as day, and ruddily illumined the faces of the mob below, betrayed him to them, and he was speedily driven from his position by a shower of stones and other missiles.
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