As he spoke, and drew Mr Haredale back, they had both a glimpse ofthe street. It was but a glimpse, but it showed them the crowd,gathering and clustering round the house: some of the armed menpressing to the front to break down the doors and windows, somebringing brands from the nearest fire, some with lifted facesfollowing their course upon the roof and pointing them out to theircompanions: all raging and roaring like the flames they lighted up.
They saw some men thirsting for the treasures of strong liquorwhich they knew were stored within; they saw others, who had beenwounded, sinking down into the opposite doorways and dying, solitary wretches, in the midst of all the vast assemblage; here afrightened woman trying to escape; and there a lost child; andthere a drunken ruffian, unconscious of the death-wound on hishead, raving and fighting to the last. All these things, and evensuch trivial incidents as a man with his hat off, or turning round,or stooping down, or shaking hands with another, they markeddistinctly; yet in a glance so brief, that, in the act of steppingback, they lost the whole, and saw but the pale faces of eachother, and the red sky above them.
Mr Haredale yielded to the entreaties of his companion--morebecause he was resolved to defend him, than for any thought he hadof his own life, or any care he entertained for his own safety--andquickly re-entering the house, they descended the stairs together.
Loud blows were thundering on the shutters, crowbars were alreadythrust beneath the door, the glass fell from the sashes, a deeplight shone through every crevice, and they heard the voices of theforemost in the crowd so close to every chink and keyhole, thatthey seemed to be hoarsely whispering their threats into their veryears. They had but a moment reached the bottom of the cellar-stepsand shut the door behind them, when the mob broke in.
The vaults were profoundly dark, and having no torch or candle--for they had been afraid to carry one, lest it should betray theirplace of refuge--they were obliged to grope with their hands. Butthey were not long without light, for they had not gone far whenthey heard the crowd forcing the door; and, looking back among thelow-arched passages, could see them in the distance, hurrying toand fro with flashing links, broaching the casks, staving the greatvats, turning off upon the right hand and the left, into thedifferent cellars, and lying down to drink at the channels ofstrong spirits which were already flowing on the ground.
They hurried on, not the less quickly for this; and had reached theonly vault which lay between them and the passage out, whensuddenly, from the direction in which they were going, a stronglight gleamed upon their faces; and before they could slip aside,or turn back, or hide themselves, two men (one bearing a torch)came upon them, and cried in an astonished whisper, "Here theyare!"
At the same instant they pulled off what they wore upon theirheads. Mr Haredale saw before him Edward Chester, and then saw,when the vintner gasped his name, Joe Willet.
Ay, the same Joe, though with an arm the less, who used to make the quarterly journey on the grey mare to pay the bill to the purple-faced vintner; and that very same purple-faced vintner, formerlyof Thames Street, now looked him in the face, and challenged him byname.
