Of the crowd now that followed Gray, not one knew who he was, of what he was accused, or why he was thus hunted, like a wild annual, through the streets. One joined in the cry because he saw others engaged in it. The two young men who had first raised the chase were a long way off, for no one could keep up with the frantic speed of the nearly maddened Gray. Those who followed him the closest were those who had joined the hunt en route; although, to the fugitive’s excited imagination, he seemed to be on the point of being overtaken by harder runners than himself. Shouts, cries, hootings, groans, and every wild and demoniac noise of which the human animal is capable, were uttered by the mob, which kept momentarily increasing as each alley, court, or street, sent forth its tribute of numbers to the stream that roared, whooped, hurried, and raced along the Strand. Some began now to throw missiles of all kinds after Gray. Stones and mud showered upon him, and he felt faint and neatly exhausted, as he saw at some distance before him a man apparently intent upon stopping him. Little, however, did he who thought to capture Gray reflect upon the shock he would receive from the speed of the hunted man. As Gray approached him he swerved, more involuntarily than designedly, and coming against the man rather obliquely, he shot him into the roadway with an impetus that sent him rolling over and over in the mud, as if he had been discharged from a cannon. To Gray the shock was severe, but it did not take him off his feet, and the circumstance caused some little diversion in his favour than otherwise; for the mob first trampled upon the prostrate man, and then some fell over him. After this, none were so bold as to stand in the way of a man who was rushing along with so terrible a speed; and Jacob Gray, reeling, panting, his lips running with blood, as he had bitten them in his agony, arrived at Somerset-house. Just beyond the stone front was a small court, and towards this temporary place of refuge from the high street Gray tottered, spinning round and round, like a drunken man. A light, agile man, who had joined the chase by the Adelphi, and who had kept very close upon Gray, now, with a shout of triumph, made a rush forward, and grappled with him at the mouth of the little court. The touch seemed like magic to revive all the fainting energies of Jacob Gray, and he turned and grappled his enemy by the throat with fearful vehemence. The court descended from the street by a flight of stone steps, and in the next instant with a shriek from the man, and a wild cry from Gray, the pursuer and pursued rolled down the stone descent, struggling with each other for life or death. CHAPTER LII. The Dark Court.—A Deed of Blood.—The Pursuit Continued.—The Mother and the Child.