and carried onward whether she would or not. She was terribly frightened
and knew not what to do. Hoarse shouts pursued her; she heard the sound
of blows. Somehow no one seemed to notice her. Probably the fighting was
more to their taste. Suddenly she found herself alone. The archway
called the Traitors' Gate which then formed the entrance to the bridge
from the Surrey side was behind her. Crowds were pouring through the
Gate eager to see what the rumpus was about or to take part in it on the
chance of plunder, and they did not heed the shrinking figure in the
deep doorway of a house close to the bridge.

Lavinia was torn with anxiety. The young man whose purse she was holding
tightly--how was he faring? She could not help him by staying. Dorrimore
and Dorrimore's coachman with the guinea he had offered for her capture
had to be thought of. Her danger was by no means over. The roadway was
comparatively clear. Now was her chance if she was ever to have one.
She stole from the doorway; the stairs leading to the river were close
at hand and down these she sped.

The tide was at low ebb. She was standing on the shingle. But she looked
in vain for a waterman. There were plenty of boats on the river, most of
them loaded with merry parties returning from Spring Gardens, Vauxhall,
and no boats were plying for hire. She dared not ascend to the Borough.
Bullies and thieves abounded in the southern approaches to the bridge.
She crept down to one of the abutments of the bridge and tremulously
listened to the turmoil going on above.

Meanwhile the man who had come to her rescue was being hardly pressed.
He was surrounded by a mob led by Dorrimore's coachman. It was not the
leader who had struck the blow which made him lose his hold of Lavinia's
arm, but one of the mob for no motive other than a love for brutality.