As men ran against or alongside of each other, their breathless question was ever, ‘Where is it?’ and no one could tell; so they pressed onwards into the market-place, sure of obtaining the information desired there, where the fire-bell kept calling out with its furious metal tongue.

The dull oil-lamps in the adjoining streets only made darkness visible in the thronged market-place, where the buzz of many men’s unanswered questions was rising louder and louder.  A strange feeling of dread crept over those nearest to the closed market-house.  Above them in the air the bell was still clanging; but before them was a door fast shut and locked; no one to speak and tell them why they were summoned—­where they ought to be.  They were at the heart of the mystery, and it was a silent blank!  Their unformed dread took shape at the cry from the outside of the crowd, from where men were still coming down the eastern side of Bridge Street.  ‘The gang! the gang!’ shrieked out some one.  ‘The gang are upon us!  Help! help!’ Then the fire-bell had been a decoy; a sort of seething the kid in its mother’s milk, leading men into a snare through their kindliest feelings.  Some dull sense of this added to utter dismay, and made them struggle and strain to get to all the outlets save that in which a fight was now going on; the swish of heavy whips, the thud of bludgeons, the groans, the growls of wounded or infuriated men, coming with terrible distinctness through the darkness to the quickened ear of fear.

A breathless group rushed up the blackness of a narrow entry to stand still awhile, and recover strength for fresh running.  For a time nothing but heavy pants and gasps were heard amongst them.  No one knew his neighbour, and their good feeling, so lately abused and preyed upon, made them full of suspicion.  The first who spoke was recognized by his voice.

‘Is it thee, Daniel Robson?’ asked his neighbour, in a low tone.

‘Ay!  Who else should it be?’

‘A dunno.’

’If a am to be any one else, I’d like to be a chap of nobbut eight stun.  A’m welly done for!’

‘It were as bloody a shame as iver I heerd on.  Who’s to go t’ t’ next fire, a’d like to know!’

‘A tell yo’ what, lads,’ said Daniel, recovering his breath, but speaking in gasps.  ‘We were a pack o’ cowards to let ’em carry off yon chaps as easy as they did, a’m reckoning!’

‘A think so, indeed,’ said another voice.

Daniel went on—­

‘We was two hunder, if we was a man; an’ t’ gang has niver numbered above twelve.’

‘But they was armed.  A seen t’ glitter on their cutlasses,’ spoke out a fresh voice.

‘What then!’ replied he who had latest come, and who stood at the mouth of the entry.  ‘A had my whalin’ knife wi’ me i’ my pea-jacket as my missus threw at me, and a’d ha’ ripped ’em up as soon as winkin’, if a could ha’ thought what was best to do wi’ that d——­d bell makin’ such a din reet above us.  A man can but die onest, and we was ready to go int’ t’ fire for t’ save folks’ lives, and yet we’d none on us t’ wit to see as we might ha’ saved yon poor chaps as screeched out for help.’