face and in his bright twinkling eyes.

"Enough of this brawling, mistress. If you _must_ fight choose someone
as big and as strong as yourself, not a lambkin."

The crowd knew him and whispers went round. "That's Spiller--Jemmy
Spiller the famous play actor." "No, is it though. Lord, he can make
folks laugh--ah, split their sides a'most. I see him last Saturday at
Master Rich's theayter in the Fields, and I thought I should ha' died."

Spiller was better at making people laugh than at holding an infuriated
woman. But he had two friends with him, stalwart butchers from Clare
Market, and he turned the task over to them with the remark that they
were used to handling mad cattle.

At this point Gay and Leveridge forced their way through the crowd. Gay
saw the red angry mark on the girl's pallid face and guessed the cause.
He drew her gently to him.

"Run inside the house. I'll join you presently," he whispered.

She thanked him with her eyes and vanished. Gay turned to Spiller.

"You deserve a double benefit at Drury Lane, Jemmy, for what you did
just now. That wild cat was about to use her claws," said he.

"Aye, and her teeth too, Mr. Gay."

"You'll need a mouthful of mountain port after that tussle. And your
friends as well, when they've disposed of Mistress Salisbury."