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assistance of the sexton； and forced him to mount his horse；
conducted him to Chigwell； bent upon procuring a conveyance to
London from that place； and carrying him at once before a justice。
The disturbed state of the town would be； he knew； a sufficient
reason for demanding the murderer’s committal to prison before
daybreak； as no man could answer for the security of any of the
watch…houses or ordinary places of detention； and to convey a
prisoner through the streets when the mob were again abroad；
would not only be a task of great danger and hazard； but would be
to challenge an attempt at rescue。 Directing the sexton to lead the
horse； he walked close by the murderer’s side； and in this order
they reached the village about the middle of the night。
The people were all awake and up； for they were fearful of
being burnt in their beds； and sought to comfort and assure each
other by watching in company。 A few of the stoutest…hearted were
armed and gathered in a body on the green。 To these； who knew
him well； Mr Haredale addressed himself； briefly narrating what
had happened； and beseeching them to aid in conveying the
criminal to London before the dawn of day。
But not a man among them dared to help him by so much as
the motion of a finger。 The rioters； in their passage through the
village； had menaced with their fiercest vengeance； any person
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who should aid in extinguishing the fire； or render the least
assistance to him； or any Catholic whomsoever。 Their threats
extended to their lives and all they possessed。 They were
assembled for their own protection； and could not endanger
themselves by lending any aid to him。 This they told him； not
without hesitation and regret； as they kept aloof in the moonlight
and glanced fearfully at the ghostly rider； who； with his head
drooping on his breast and his hat slouched down upon his brow；
neither moved nor spoke。
Finding it impossible to persuade them； and indeed hardly
knowing how to do so after what they had seen of the fury of the
crowd； Mr Haredale besought them that at least they would leave
him free to act for himself； and would suffer him to take the only
chaise and pair of horses that the place afforded。 This was not
acceded to without some difficulty； but in the end they told him to
do what he would； and go away from them in heaven’s name。
Leaving the sexton at the horse’s bridle； he drew out the chaise
with his own hands； and would have harnessed the horses； but
that the post…boy of the village—a soft…hearted； good…for…nothing；
vagabond kind of fellow—was moved by his earnestness and
passion； and； throwing down a pitchfork with which he was
armed； swore that the rioters might cut him into mincemeat if they
liked； but he would not stand by and see an honest gentleman who
had done no wrong； reduced to such extremity； without doing
what he could to help him。 Mr Haredale shook him warmly by the
hand； and thanked him from his heart。 In five minutes’ time the
chaise was ready； and this good scapegrace in his saddle。 The
murderer was put inside； the blinds were drawn up； the sexton
took his seat upon the bar； Mr Haredale mounted his horse and
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rode close beside the door； and so they started in the dead of
night； and in profound silence； for London。
The consternation was so extreme that even the horses which
had escaped the flames at the Warren； could find no friends to
shelter them。 They passed them on the road； browsing on the
stunted grass； and the driver told them； that the poor beasts had
wandered to the village first； but had been driven away； lest they
should bring the vengeance of the crowd on any of the inhabitants。
Nor was this feeling confined to such small places； where the
people were timid； ignorant； and unprotected。 When they came
near London they met； in the grey light of morning； more than one
poor Catholic family who； terrified by the threats and warnings of
their neighbours； were quitting the city on foot； and who told them
they could hire no cart or horse for the removal of their goods； and
had been compelled to leave them behind； at the mercy of the
crowd。 Near Mile End they passed a house； the master of which； a
Catholic gentleman of small means； having hired a waggon to
remove his furniture by midnight； had had it all brought down into
the street； to wait the vehicle’s arrival； and save time in the
packing。 But the man with whom he made the bargain； alarmed
by the fires that night； and by the sight of the rioters passing his
door； had refused to keep it： and the poor gentleman； with his wife
and servant and their little children； were sitting trembling among
their goods in the open street； dreading the arrival of day and not
knowing where to turn or what to do。
It was the same； they heard； with the public conveyances。 The
panic was so great that the mails and stage…coaches were afraid to
carry passengers who professed the obnoxious religion。 If the
drivers knew them； or they admitted that they held that creed；
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they would not take them； no； though they offered large sums； and
yesterday； people had been afraid to recognise Catholic
acquaintance in the streets； lest they should be marked by spies；
and burnt out； as it was called； in consequence。 One mild old
man—a priest； whose chapel was destroyed； a very feeble； patient；
inoffensive creature—who was trudging away； alone； designing to
walk some distance from town； and then try his fortune with the
coaches； told Mr Haredale that he feared he might not find a
magistrate who would have the hardihood to commit a prisoner to
jail； on his complaint。 But notwithstanding these discouraging
accounts they went on； and reached the Mansion House soon after
sunrise。
Mr Haredale threw himself from his horse； but he had no need
to knock at the door； for it was already open； and there stood upon
the step a portly old man； with a very red； or rather purple face；
who with an anxious expression of countenance； was
remonstrating with some unseen personage upstairs； while the
porter essayed to close the door by degrees and get rid of him。
With the intense impatience and excitement natural to one in his
condition； Mr Haredale thrust himself forward and was about to
speak； when the fat old gentleman interposed：
‘My good sir；’ said he； ‘pray let me get an answer。 This is the
sixth time I have been here。 I was here five times yesterday。 My
house is threatened with destruction。 It is to be burned down to…
night； and was to have been last night； but they had other business
on their hands。 Pray let me get an answer。’
‘My good sir；’ returned Mr Haredale； shaking his head； ‘my
house is burned to the ground。 But heaven forbid that yours
should be。 Get your answer。 Be brief； in mercy to me。’
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‘Now； you hear this； my lord？’—said the old gentleman； calling
up the stairs； to where the skirt of a dress