“The watch!” he cried, “the watch!”

They vanished like rats into their holes at the shout, leaving me standing alone with him.  The affair had come and gone so quickly that I scarce caught my breath.

“Pardon, sir,” he said, knuckling, “but I followed you.”

It was Banks.  For a second time he had given me an affecting example of his faithfulness.  I forgot that he was my servant, and I caught his hand and pressed it.

“You have saved my life at the risk of your own,” I said; “I shall not forget it.”

But Banks had been too well trained to lose sight of his position.  He merely tipped his hat again and said imperturbably: 

“Best get out of here, your honour.  They’ll be coming again directly.”

“Where are we?” I asked.

“Drury Lane, sir,” he replied, giving me just the corner of a glance; “shall I fetch a coach, sir?” No, I preferred to walk.  Before we had turned into Long Acre I had seen all of this Sodom of London that it should be given a man to see, if indeed we must behold some of the bestiality of this world.  Here alone, in the great city, high and low were met equal.  Sin levels rank.  The devil makes no choice between my lord and his kitchen wench who has gone astray.  Here, in Sodom, painted vice had lain for an hundred years and bred half the crime of a century.  How many souls had gone hence in that time to meet their Maker!  Some of these brazen creatures who leered at me had known how long ago! —­a peaceful home and a mother’s love; had been lured in their innocence to this place of horrors, never to leave it until death mercifully overtakes them.  Others, having fallen, had been driven hither by a cruel world that shelters all save the helpless, that forgives all save the truly penitent.  I shuddered as I thought of Mr. Hogarth’s prints, which, in the library in Marlboro’ Street at home, had had so little meaning for me.  Verily he had painted no worse than the reality.  As I strode homeward, my own sorrow subdued by the greater sorrow I had looked upon, the craving I had had to be alone was gone, and I would have locked arms with a turnspit.  I called to Banks, who was behind at a respectful distance, and bade him come talk to me.  His presence of mind in calling on the watch had made even a greater impression upon me than his bravery.  I told him that he should have ten pounds, and an increase of wages.  And I asked him where I had gone after leaving Dover Street, and why he had followed me.  He answered this latter question first.  He had seen gentlemen in the same state, or something like it, before:  his Lordship, his late master, after he had fought with Mr. Onslow, of the Guards, and Sir Edward Minturn, when he had lost an inheritance and a reversion at Brooks’s, and was forced to give over his engagement to marry the Honourable Miss Swift.  “Lord, sir,” he said, “but that was a sad case, as set all London agog.  And Sir Edward shot hisself at Portsmouth not a se’nnight after.”