XXX
THE MAYOR'S RECEPTION IN QUEEN'S SQUARE
The day, of which Mary watched the cloudy opening from her mother'swindow, was drawing to a close; and from a house in the sameSquare--but on the north side, whereas Miss Sibson's was on thewest--another pair of eyes looked out, while a heart, which a fewhours before had been as sore as hers, rose a little at the prospect.Arthur Vaughan, ignorant of her proximity--to love's shame be itsaid--sat in a window on the first floor of the Mansion House, and,undismayed by the occasional crash of glass, watched the movements ofthe swaying, shouting, mocking crowd; a crowd, numbering somethousands, which occupied the middle space of the Square, as well asthe roadways, clustered upon the Immortal Memory, overflowed into theside streets, and now joined in one mighty roar of "Reform! Reform!"now groaned thunderously at the name of Wetherell. Behind Vaughan inthe same room, the drawing-room of the official residence, some twentyor thirty persons argued and gesticulated; at one time approaching awindow to settle a debated point, at another scattering withexclamations of anger as a stone fell or some other missile alightedamong them.
"Boo! Boo!" yelled the mob below. "Throw him out! Reform! Reform!"
Vaughan looked down on the welter of moving faces. He saw that thestone-throwers were few, and the daredevils, who at times adventuredto pull up the railings which guarded the forecourt, were fewer. Buthe saw also that the mass sympathised with them, egged them on, andapplauded their exploits. And he wondered what would happen when nightfell, and wondered again why the peaceable citizens who wrangledbehind him made light of the position. The glass was flying, here andthere an iron bar had vanished from the railings, night wasapproaching. For him it was very well. He had accompanied Brereton toBristol to see what would happen, and for his part, if the adventureproved to be of the first class, so much the better. But the goodpursy citizens behind him, who, when they were not deafening thelittle Mayor with their counsels, were making a jest of the turmoil,had wives and daughters, goods and houses within reach. And in theirplace he felt that he would have been far from easy.
By and by it appeared that some of them shared his feelings. Forpresently, in a momentary lull of the babel outside, a voice he knewrose above those in the room.
"Nothing? You call it nothing?" Mr. Cooke--for his was thevoice--cried. "Nothing, that his Majesty's Judge has been hooted andpelted from Totterdown to the Guildhall? Nothing, that the Recorder ofBristol has been hunted like a criminal from the Guildhall to thisplace! You call it nothing, sir, that his Majesty's Commission hasbeen flouted for six hours past by all the riffraff of the Docks? Andwith half of decent Bristol looking on and applauding!"
"Oh, no, no!" the little Mayor remonstrated. "Not applauding, Mr.Cooke!"
"Yes, sir, applauding!" Cooke retorted with vigour.
"And teach Wetherell a lesson!" someone in the background muttered.
The man spoke low, but Cooke heard the words and wheeled about."There, sir, there!" he cried, stuttering in his indignation. "What doyou say to that? Here, in your presence, the King's Judge is insulted.But I warn you," he continued, "I warn you all! You are playing withfire! You are laughing in your sleeves, but you'll cry in your shirts!You, Mr. Mayor, I call upon you to do your duty! I call upon you tosummon the military and give the order to clear the streets beforeworse comes of it."
"I don't--I really don't--think that it is necessary," the Mayoranswered pacifically. "I have seen as bad as this at half a dozenelections, Mr. Cooke."
The Town-clerk, a tall, thin man, who still wore his gown though hehad laid aside his wig, struck in. "Quite true, Mr. Mayor!" he said."The fact is, the crowd thinks itself hardly used on these occasionsif it is not allowed to break the windows and do a little mischief onthe lower floor."
"By G--d, I'd teach it a lesson then!" Cooke retorted. "It seems to meit is time someone did!"
Two or three expressed the same opinion, though they did so with lessdecision. But the main part smiled at Cooke's heat as at a foolishdisplay of temper. "I've seen as much half a dozen times," said one,shrugging his shoulders. "And no harm done!"
"I've seen worse!" another answered. "And after all," the speakeradded with a wink, "it is good for the glaziers."
Fortunately, Cooke did not hear this last. But Vaughan heard it, andhe judged that the rioters had their backers within as well aswithout; and that within, as without, the notion prevailed that theGovernment would not be best pleased if the movement were too roughlychecked. An old proverb about the wisdom of dealing with thebeginnings of mischief occurred to him. But he supposed that theauthorities knew their business and Bristol, and, more correctly thanhe, could gauge the mob and the danger, of both of which they made solight.
Still he wondered. And he wondered more three minutes later. Twoservants brought in lights. Unfortunately the effect of these was toreveal the interior of the room to the mob, and the change was thesignal for a fusillade of stones so much more serious and violent thananything which had gone before that a quick _sauve qui peut_ tookplace. Vaughan was dislodged with the others--he could do no good byremaining; and in two minutes the room was empty, and the mob werecelebrating their victory with peals of titanic laughter, accompaniedby fierce cries of "Throw him out! Throw out the d----d Recorder!Reform!"
Meanwhile the company, with one broken head and one or two pale faces,had taken refuge on the landing behind the drawing-room, the stairsascending to which were guarded by a reserve of constables. Vaughansaw that the Mayor and his satellites were beginning to look at oneanother, and leaning, quietly observant, against the wall, he noticedthat more than one was shaken. Still the little Mayor retained hisgood-humour. "Oh, dear, dear!" he said indulgently. "This is too bad!Really too bad!"
"We'd better go upstairs," Sergeant Ludlow, the Town-clerk, suggested."We can see what passes as well from that floor as from this, and withless risk!"
"No, but really this is growing serious," a third said timidly. "It'stoo bad, this."
He had scarcely spoken, and the Mayor was still standing undecided, asif he did not quite like the idea of retreat, when two persons, onewith his head bandaged, came quickly up the stairs. "Where's theMayor?" cried the first. And then, "Mr. Mayor, they are pushing us toohard," said the second, an officer of special constables. "We musthave help, or they will pull the house about our ears."
"Oh, nonsense!"
"But it's not nonsense, sir," the man answered angrily.
"But----"
"You must read the Riot Act, sir," the other, who was theUnder-Sheriff, chimed in. "And the sooner the better, Mr. Mayor," headded with decision. "We've half a dozen men badly hurt. In my opinionyou should send for the military."
The group on the landing looked aghast at one another. What, danger?Really--danger? Half a dozen men badly hurt? Then one made an effortto carry it off. "Send for the military?" he gasped. "Oh, but that isabsurd! That would only make matters worse!"
The others did not speak, and the Mayor in particular looked upset.Perhaps for the first time he appreciated the responsibility which layon his shoulders. Meanwhile Vaughan saw all; and Cooke also, and thelatter laughed maliciously. "Perhaps you will listen now," he saidwith an ill-natured chuckle. "You would not listen to me!"
"Dear, dear," the Mayor quavered. "Is it really as serious as that,Mr. Hare?" He turned to the Town-clerk. "What do you advise?" heasked.
"I think with Mr. Hare that you had better read the Riot Act, sir."
"Very well, I'll come down! I'll come down at once," the Mayorassented with spirit. "Only," he continued, looking round him, "I begthat some gentleman known to be on the side of Reform, will come withme. Who has the Riot Act?"
"Mr. Burges. Where is he?"
"I am here, sir," replied the gentleman named. "I am quite ready, Mr.Mayor. If you will say a few words to the crowd; I am sure they willlisten. Let us go down!"
* * * * *
Twenty minutes later the s
ame group, but with disordered clothes andsickly faces--and as to Mr. Burges, with a broken head--were gatheredagain on the landing. In those twenty minutes, despite the magic ofthe Riot Act, the violence of the mob had grown rather thandiminished. They were beginning to talk of burning the Mansion House,they were calling for straw, they were demanding lights. Darkness hadfallen, too, and there could be no question now that the position wasserious. The Mayor, who, below stairs, had shown no lack of courage,turned to the Town-clerk. "Ought I to call out the military?" heasked.
"I think that we should take Sir Charles Wetherell's opinion," thetall, thin man answered, deftly shifting the burden from his ownshoulders.
"The sooner Sir Charles is gone the better, I should say!" Cooke saidbluntly. "If we don't want to have his blood on our heads."
"I am with Mr. Cooke there," the Under-Sheriff struck in. He wasresponsible for the Judge's safety, and he spoke strongly. "SirCharles should be got away," he continued. "That's the first thing tobe done. He cannot hold the Assizes, and I say frankly that I will notbe responsible if he stays."
"Jonah!" someone muttered with a sneering laugh.
The Mayor turned about. "That's very improper!" he said.
"It's very improper to send a Judge who is a politician!" the voiceanswered.
"And against the Bill!" a second jeered.
"For shame! For shame!" the Mayor cried.
"And I fancy, sir," the Under-Sheriff struck in with heat, "that thegentlemen who have just spoken--I think I can guess their names--willbe sorry before morning! They will find that it is easier to kindle afire than to put it out! But--silence, gentlemen! Silence! Here is SirCharles!"
Wetherell had that moment opened the door of his private room, ofwhich the window looked to the back. His face betrayed his surprise onfinding twenty or thirty persons huddled in disorder at the head ofthe stairs. The two lights which had survived the flight from thedrawing-room flared in the draught of the shattered windows, andthe wavering illumination gave a sinister cast to the scene.The dull rattle of stones on the floor of the rooms exposed to theSquare--varied at times by a roar of voices or a rush of feet in thehall below--suggested that the danger was near at hand, and that theassailants might at any moment break into the building.
Nevertheless Sir Charles showed no signs of fear. After lettinghis eyes travel over the group, "How long is this going on, Mr.Under-Sheriff?" he asked, plunging his hands deep in his breechespockets.
"Well, Sir Charles----"
"They seem," with a touch of sternness, "to be carrying the jestrather too far."
"Mr. Cooke," the Mayor said, "wishes me to call out the military."
Wetherell shook his head. "No, no," he said. "The occasion is not soserious as to justify that. You cannot say that life is in danger?"
The Under-Sheriff put himself forward. "I can say, sir," he answeredfirmly, "that yours is in danger. And in serious danger!"
Wetherell planted his feet further apart, and thrust his hands lowerinto his pockets. "Oh, no, no," he said.
"It is yes, yes, sir," the Under-Sheriff replied bluntly. "Unless youleave the house I cannot be responsible! I cannot, indeed, SirCharles."
"But----"
"Listen, sir! If you don't wish a very terrible catastrophe to happen,you must go! By G--d you must!" the Under-Sheriff repeated, forgettinghis manners.
The noise below had swollen suddenly. Cries, blows, and shrieks roseup the staircase, and announced that at any moment the party abovemight have to defend their lives. At the prospect suddenly presented,respect for dignities took flight; panic seized the majority.Constables, thrusting aldermen and magistrates aside, raced up thestairs, and bundled down again laden with beds with which to block thewindows: while the picked men who had hitherto guarded the foot of thestaircase left their posts in charge of two or three of the wounded,who groaned dismally. Apparently the mob had broken into part of theground floor, and were with difficulty held at bay.
One of the party struck his hand on the balusters--it was Mr. Cooke."By Heavens!" he said, "this is what comes of your d----d Reform! Yourd----d Reform! We shall all be murdered, every man of us! Murdered!"
"For God's sake, Mr. Mayor," cried a quavering voice, "send for themilitary."
"Ay, ay! the soldiers. Send for the soldiers, sir!" echoed two orthree.
"Certainly I will," said the Mayor, who was cooler than most. "Whowill go?"
A man volunteered. On which Vaughan, who had so far remained silent,stepped forward. "Sir Charles," he said, "you must retire. Your dutiesare at an end, and your presence hampers the defence. Permit me toescort you. I am unknown here, and can pass through the streets."
Wetherell, as brave, stout and as solid a man as any in England,hesitated. But he saw that it would soon be everyone for himself; andin that event he was doomed. The din was waxing louder and moremenacing; the group on the stairs was melting away. In terror on theirown account, the officials were beginning to forget his presence.Several had already disappeared, seeking to save themselves, this wayand that. Others were going. Every moment the confusion increased, andthe panic. He gave way. "You think I ought to go, Vaughan?" he askedin a low voice.
"I do, sir," Vaughan answered. And, entering the Recorder's room, hebrought out Sir Charles's hat and cloak and hastily thrust them onhim, scarcely anyone else attending to them. As he did this his eyealighted on a constable's staff which lay on the floor where its ownerhad dropped it. Thinking that, as he was without arms, he might aswell possess himself of it, Vaughan left Wetherell's side and went topick it up. At that moment a roar of sound, as sudden as the explosionof a gun, burst up the staircase. Two or three cried in a frenzied waythat the mob were coming; some fled this way, some that, a few towindows at the back, more to the upper story, while a handful obeyedVaughan's call to stand and hold the head of the stairs. For a briefspace all was disorder and--save in his neighbourhood--panic. Then avoice below shouted that the soldiers were come, and a general "ThankGod! Not a moment too soon!" was heard on all sides. Vaughan made surethat it was true, and then he turned to rejoin Sir Charles.
But Wetherell had vanished, and no one could say in which direction.Vaughan hurried upstairs and along the passages in anxious search; butin vain. One told him that Sir Charles had left by a window at theback; another, that he had been seen going upstairs with theUnder-Sheriff. He could learn nothing certain; and he was askinghimself what he should do next, when the sound of cheering reached hisear.
"What is that?" he asked a man who met him as he descended the stairsfrom the second floor.
"They are cheering the soldiers," the man replied.
"I am glad to hear it!" Vaughan exclaimed.
"I'd say so too," the other rejoined glumly, "if I was certain onwhich side the soldiers were! But you're wanted, sir, in thedrawing-room. The Mayor asked me to find you."
"Very good," Vaughan said, and without delay he followed the messengerto the room he had named. Here, with the relics of the fray aboutthem, he found the Mayor and four or five officials who lookedwoefully shaken and flustered. With them were Brereton and theHonourable Bob, both in uniform. The stone-throwing had ceased, forthe front of the house was now guarded by a double line of troopers inred cloaks. Lights, too, had been brought, and in the main the dangerseemed to be over. But about this council there was none of thatlightheartedness, none of that easy contempt which had characterisedthe one held in the same room an hour or two before. The lesson hadbeen learnt in a measure.
The Mayor looked at Vaughan as he entered. "Is this the gentleman?" heasked.
"Yes, that is the gentleman who got us together at the head of thestairs," a person, a stranger to Vaughan, answered. "If he," the mancontinued, "were put in charge of the constables, who are at presentat sixes and sevens, we might manage something."
A voice in the background mentioned that it was Mr. Vaughan, theMember for Chippinge. "I shall be glad to do anything I can," Vaughansaid.
"In support of the military," the ta
ll, thin Town-clerk interposed, ina decided tone. "That must be understood. Eh, Mr. Burges?"
"Certainly," the City Solicitor answered. And they both looked atColonel Brereton, who, somewhat to Vaughan's surprise, had notacknowledged his presence.
"Of course, of course," said the Mayor pacifically. "That isunderstood. I am quite sure that Colonel Brereton will use his utmostforce to clear the streets and quiet the city."
"I shall do what I think right," Brereton replied, standing upstraight, with his hand on his sword-hilt, and looking, among thedisordered citizens, like a Spanish hidalgo among a troop of peasants."I shall do what is right," he repeated stubbornly; and Vaughan,knowing the man well, perceived that, quiet as he seemed, he waslabouring under strong excitement. "I shall walk my horses about. Thecrowd are perfectly good-humoured, and only need to be kept moving."
The Town-clerk exchanged a glance with a neighbour. "But do you think,sir," he said, "that that will be sufficient? You are aware, Isuppose, that great damage has been done already, and that had yourtroop not arrived when it did many lives might have been sacrificed?"
"That is all I shall do," Brereton answered. "Unless," with a faintring of contempt in his tone, "the Mayor gives me an express andwritten order to attack the people."
The Mayor's face was a picture. "I?" he gasped.
"Yes, sir."
"But I--I could not take that responsibility on myself," the Mayorcried. "I couldn't, I really couldn't!" he repeated, taken aback bythe burden it was proposed to put on him. "I can't judge, ColonelBrereton--I am not a military man--whether it is necessary or not."
"I should consider it unwise," Brereton replied formally.
"Very good! Then--then you must use your discretion."
"Just so. That's what I supposed," Brereton replied, not masking hiscontempt for the vacillation of those about him. "In that case I shallpursue the line of action I have indicated. I shall walk my horses upand down. The crowd are perfectly good-humoured. What is it, pray?"
He turned, frowning. A man had entered the room and was whispering inthe Town-clerk's ear. The latter straightened himself with a heatedface. "You call them good-humoured, sir?" he said. "I hear that two ofyour men, Colonel Brereton, have just been brought in severelywounded. I do not know whether you call that good-humour?"
Brereton looked a little discomposed. "They must have brought it onthemselves," he said, "by some rashness. Your constables have nodiscretion."
"I think you should at least clear the Square and the neighbouringstreets," the Town-clerk persisted.
"I have indicated what I shall do," Brereton replied, with a gloomylook. "And I am prepared to be responsible for the safety of the city.If you wish me to act beyond my judgment, the civil power must give mean express and written order."
Still the Mayor and those about him looked uneasy, though they did notdare to do what Brereton suggested. The howls of the rabble still rangin their ears, and before their eyes they had the black, gapingcasements, through which an ominous murmur entered. They had waitedlong before calling in the Military, they had hesitated long; forPeterloo had erased Waterloo from the memory of an ungratefulgeneration, and men, secure abroad and straining after Reform at home,held a red-coat in small favour, if not in suspicion. But havingcalled the red-coats in, they looked for something more than this, forsome vindication of the law and the civil power, some stroke whichwould cast terror into the hearts of misdoers. The Town-clerk, inparticular, had his doubts, and when no one else spoke he put theminto words.
"May I ask," he said formally, "if you have any orders, ColonelBrereton, from the Secretary of State or the Horse Guards, whichprevent you from obeying the directions of the magistrates?"
Brereton looked at him sternly.
"No," he said, "I am prepared to obey your orders, stated in themanner I have laid down. Then the responsibility will not lie withme."
But the Mayor stepped back. "I couldn't take it on myself, sir. I--Godknows what the consequences might be!" He looked round piteously. "Wedon't want another Manchester massacre."
"I fancy," Brereton answered grimly, "that if we have anotherManchester business, it will go ill with those who sign the order!Times are changed since '19, gentlemen--and governments! And I thinkwe understand that. You leave it to me, then, gentlemen?"
No one spoke.
"Very good," he continued. "If your constables will do their duty withdiscretion--and you could not have a better man to command them thanMr. Vaughan, but he ought to be going about it now--I will answer forthe peace of the city."
"But--but we shall see you again, Colonel Brereton," the Mayor criedin some agitation.
"See me, sir?" Brereton answered contemptuously.
"Oh, yes, you can see me, if you wish to! But----" He shrugged hisshoulders, and turned away without finishing the sentence.
Vaughan, when he heard that, knew that, cool as Brereton seemed, hewas not himself. A moody stubbornness had taken the place of lastnight's excitement; but that was all. And as the party troopeddownstairs--he had requested the Mayor to say a few words, placing theconstables under his control--he swallowed his private feelings andapproached Flixton.
"Flixton," he whispered, throwing what friendliness he could into hisvoice. "Do you think Brereton's right?"
Flixton turned an ill-humoured face towards him, and dragged at hissword-belt. "Oh, I don't know," he said irritably. "It's his business,and I suppose he can judge. There's a deuce of a crowd, I know, and ifwe go charging into it we shall be swallowed up in a twinkling!"
"But it has been whispered to me," Vaughan replied, "that he told thepeople on his way here that he's for Reform. Isn't it unwise to letthem think that the soldiers may side with them?"
"Fine talking," Flixton answered with a sneer. "And God knows if wehad five hundred men, or three hundred, I'd agree. But what can sixtyor eighty men do galloping over slippery pavements in the dark? And ifwe fire and kill a dozen, the Government will hang us to clearthemselves! And these d----d nigger-drivers and sugar-boilers behindus would be the first to swear against us!"
Vaughan had his own opinion. But they had to part then. Flixton, inhis blue uniform--there were two troops present, one of the 3rdDragoon Guards in red, and one of the 14th Dragoons in blue--went outby Brereton's side with his spurs ringing on the stone pavement andhis sword clanking. He was not acting with his troop, but as theColonel's aide-de-camp. Meanwhile Vaughan, who could not see the oldblue uniform without a pang, went with the Mayor to marshal theconstables.
Of these no more than eighty remained, and with little stomach for thetask before them. This task, indeed, notwithstanding the check whichthe arrival of the troopers had given the mob, was far from easy. Theground-floor of the Mansion House looked like a place taken by stormand sacked. The railings which guarded the forecourt were gone, andeven the wall on which they stood had been demolished to furnishmissiles. The doorways and windows, where they were not clumsilybarricaded, were apertures inviting entrance. In one room lay a pileof straw ready for lighting. In another lay half a dozen wounded men.Everywhere the cold wind, blowing off the water of the Welsh Back,entered a dozen openings and extinguished the flares as quickly asthey could be lighted, casting now one room and now another into blackshadow.
But if the men had little heart for further exertions, Vaughan'smanhood rose the higher to meet the call. Bringing his soldier'straining into play, in a few minutes he had his force divided intofour companies, each under a leader. Two he held in reserve, biddingthem get what rest they could; with the other two he manned theforecourt, and guarded the flank which lay open to the Welsh Back. Andas long as the troopers rode up and down within a stone's-throw allwas well. But when the soldiers passed to the other side of the Squarea rush was made on the house--mainly by a gang of the low Irish of theneighbourhood--and many a stout blow was struck before the rabble, whothirsted for the strong ale and wine in the cellars, could bedislodged from the forecourt and driven to a distance. The danger tolife was not g
reat, though the tale of wounded grew steadily; norcould the post of Chief Constable be held to confer much honour on onewho so short a time before had dreamt of Cabinets and portfolios, andof a Senate hanging on his words. But the joy of conflict wassomething to a stout heart, and the sense of success. Something, too,it was to feel that where he stood his men stood also; and that wherehe was not, the Irish, with their brickbats and iron bars, made a way.There was a big lout, believed by some to be a Brummagem man and atool of the Political Union, who more than once led on the assailants;and when Vaughan found that this man shunned him and chose the sidewhere he was not, that too was a joy.
"After all, this is what I am good for," he told himself as he stoodto take breath after a _melee_ which was at once the most serious andthe last. "I was a fool to leave the regiment," he continued,staunching a trickle of blood which ran from a cut on his cheek bone."For, after all, better a good blow than a bad speech! Better,perhaps, a good blow than all the speeches, good and bad!" And in theheat of the moment he swung his staff. Then--then he thought of Maryand of Flixton, and his heart sank, and his joy was at an end.
"Don't think they'll try us again, sir," said an old pensioner, whohad constituted himself his orderly, and who had known the neigh ofthe war-horse in the Peninsula. "If we had had you at the beginningwe'd have had no need of the old Blues, nor the Third either!"
"Oh, that's rubbish!" Vaughan replied. But he owned the flattery, andhis heart warmed to the pensioner, whose prediction proved to becorrect. The crowd melted slowly but certainly after that. By eleveno'clock there were but a couple of hundred in the Square. By twelve,even these were gone. A half-dozen troopers, and as manytatterdemalions, slinking about the dark corners, were all thatremained of the combatants; and the Mayor, with many words, presentedVaughan with the thanks of the city for his services.
"It is gratifying, Mr. Vaughan," he added, "to find that ColonelBrereton was right."
"Yes," Vaughan agreed. And he took his leave, carrying off his stafffor a memento.
He was very weary, and it was not the shortest way to the White Lion,yet his feet carried him across the dark Square and past the ImmortalMemory to the front of Miss Sibson's house. It showed no lightsto the Square, but in a first-floor window of the next house hemarked a faint radiance as of a shaded taper, and the outline of ahead--doubtless the head of someone looking out to make sure that thedisorder was at an end. He saw, but love was at fault. No inner voicetold him that the head was Mary's! No thrill revealed to him that atthat very moment, with her brow pressed to the cold pane, she wasthinking of him! None! With a sigh, and a farther fall from thelightheartedness of an hour before, he went his way.
Broad Street was quiet, but half a dozen persons were gathered outsidethe White Lion. They were listening: and one of them told him, as hepassed in, that the Blues, in beating back a party from the CouncilHouse, a short time before, had shot one of the rioters. In the hallhe found several groups debating some point with heat, but they fellsilent when they saw him, one nudging another; and he fancied thatthey paid especial attention to him. As he moved towards the office, aman detached himself from them and approached him with a formal air.
"Mr. Vaughan, I think?" he said.
"Yes."
"Mr. Arthur Vaughan?" the man, who was a complete stranger to Vaughan,repeated. "Member of Parliament for Chippinge, I believe?"
"Yes."
"Reform Member?"
Vaughan eyed him narrowly. "If you are one of my constituents," hesaid drily, "I will answer that question."
"I am not one," the man rejoined, with a little less confidence. "Butit's my business, nevertheless, to warn you, Mr. Vaughan, in your owninterests, that the part you have been taking here will not commendyou to them! You have been handling the people very roughly, I amtold. Very roughly! Now, I am Mr. Here----"
"You may be Mr. Here or Mr. There," Vaughan said, cutting himshort--but very quietly. "But if you say another word to me, I willthrow you through that door for your impudence! That is all. Now--haveyou any more to say?"
The man tried to carry it off. For there was sniggering behind him.But Vaughan's blood was up, the agitator read it in the young man'seye, and being a man of words, not deeds, he fell back. Vaughan wentup to bed.