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anywhere as among the king’s troops； is he？ What would you do
with him？ Would you hand him over to a pack of cowardly
civilians； that shake in their shoes till they wear the soles out； with
trembling at the threats of the ragamuffins he belongs to？’
‘That’s true enough。’
‘True enough！—I’ll tell you what。 I wish； Tom Green； that I was
a commissioned instead of a non…commissioned officer； and that I
had the command of two companies—only two companies—of my
own regiment。 Call me out to stop these riots—give me the needful
authority； and half…a…dozen rounds of ball cartridge—’
‘Ay！’ said the other voice。 ‘That’s all very well； but they won’t
give the needful authority。 If the magistrate won’t give the word；
what’s the officer to do？’
Not very well knowing； as it seemed； how to overcome this
difficulty； the other man contented himself with damning the
magistrates。
‘With all my heart；’ said his friend。
‘Where’s the use of a magistrate？’ returned the other voice。
‘What’s a magistrate in this case； but an impertinent； unnecessary；
unconstitutional sort of interference？ Here’s a proclamation。
Here’s a man referred to in that proclamation。 Here’s proof
against him； and a witness on the spot。 Damme！ Take him out and
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shoot him； sir。 Who wants a magistrate？’
‘When does he go before Sir John Fielding？’ asked the man
who had spoken first。
‘To…night at eight o’clock；’ returned the other。 ‘Mark what
follows。 The magistrate commits him to Newgate。 Our people take
him to Newgate。 The rioters pelt our people。 Our people retire
before the rioters。 Stones are thrown； insults are offered； not a
shot’s fired。 Why？ Because of the magistrates。 Damn the
magistrates！’
When he had in some degree relieved his mind by cursing the
magistrates in various other forms of speech； the man was silent；
save for a low growling； still having reference to those authorities；
which from time to time escaped him。
Barnaby； who had wit enough to know that this conversation
concerned； and very nearly concerned； himself； remained
perfectly quiet until they ceased to speak； when he groped his way
to the door； and peeping through the air…holes； tried to make out
what kind of men they were； to whom he had been listening。
The one who condemned the civil power in such strong terms；
was a serjeant—engaged just then； as the streaming ribands in his
cap announced； on the recruiting service。 He stood leaning
sideways against a pillar nearly opposite the door； and as he
growled to himself； drew figures on the pavement with his cane。
The other man had his back towards the dungeon； and Barnaby
could only see his form。 To judge from that； he was a gallant；
manly； handsome fellow； but he had lost his left arm。 It had been
taken off between the elbow and the shoulder； and his empty coat…
sleeve hung across his breast。
It was probably this circumstance which gave him an interest
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beyond any that his companion could boast of； and attracted
Barnaby’s attention。 There was something soldierly in his bearing；
and he wore a jaunty cap and jacket。 Perhaps he had been in the
service at one time or other。 If he had； it could not have been very
long ago； for he was but a young fellow now。
‘Well； well；’ he said thoughtfully； ‘let the fault be where it may；
it makes a man sorrowful to come back to old England； and see
her in this condition。’
‘I suppose the pigs will join ’em next；’ said the serjeant； with an
imprecation on the rioters； ‘now that the birds have set ’em the
example。’
‘The birds！’ repeated Tom Green。
‘Ah—birds；’ said the serjeant testily； ‘that’s English； an’t it？’
‘I don’t know what you mean。’
‘Go to the guard…house； and see。 You’ll find a bird there； that’s
got their cry as pat as any of ’em； and bawls “No Popery；” like a
man—or like a devil； as he says he is。 I shouldn’t wonder。 The
devil’s loose in London somewhere。 Damme if I wouldn’t twist his
neck round； on the chance； if I had my way。’
The young man had taken two or three steps away； as if to go
and see this creature； when he was arrested by the voice of
Barnaby。
‘It’s mine；’ he called out； half laughing and half weeping—‘my
pet； my friend Grip。 Ha ha ha！ Don’t hurt him； he has done no
harm。 I taught him； it’s my fault。 Let me have him； if you please。
He’s the only friend I have left now。 He’ll not dance； or talk； or
whistle for you； I know； but he will for me； because he knows me
and loves me—though you wouldn’t think it—very well。 You
wouldn’t hurt a bird； I’m sure。 You’re a brave soldier； sir； and
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wouldn’t harm a woman or a child—no； no； nor a poor bird； I’m
certain。’
This latter adjuration was addressed to the serjeant； whom
Barnaby judged from his red coat to be high in office； and able to
seal Grip’s destiny by a word。 But that gentleman； in reply； surlily
damned him for a thief and rebel as he was； and with many
disinterested imprecations on his own eyes； liver； blood； and body；
assured him that if it rested with him to decide； he would put a
final stopper on the bird； and his master too。
‘You talk boldly to a caged man；’ said Barnaby； in anger。 ‘If I
was on the other side of the door and there were none to part us；
you’d change your note—ay； you may toss your head—you would！
Kill the bird—do。 Kill anything you can； and so revenge yourself
on those who with their bare hands