pit rose black against the sky. I was one of a rude semicircle of
people that hung as yet indeterminate in action about this dispute.

It was natural, I suppose, that my fingers should close upon the
revolver in my pocket.

I advanced with the vaguest intentions in the world, and not so
quickly but that several men hurried past me to join the little
knot holding up the car.

Lord Redcar, in his big furry overcoat, towered up over the group
about him; his gestures were free and threatening, and his voice
loud. He made a fine figure there, I must admit; he was a big,
fair, handsome young man with a fine tenor voice and an instinct
for gallant effect. My eyes were drawn to him at first wholly. He
seemed a symbol, a triumphant symbol, of all that the theory of
aristocracy claims, of all that filled my soul with resentment.
His chauffeur sat crouched together, peering at the crowd under
his lordship's arm. But Mitchell showed as a sturdy figure also,
and his voice was firm and loud.

"You've hurt that lad," said Mitchell, over and over again. "You'll
wait here till you see if he's hurt."

"I'll wait here or not as I please," said Redcar; and to the
chauffeur, "Here! get down and look at it!"

"You'd better not get down," said Mitchell; and the chauffeur stood
bent and hesitating on the step.