A man volunteered. On which Vaughan, who had so far remained silent, stepped forward. “Sir Charles,” he said, “you must retire. Your duties are at an end, and your presence hampers the defence. Permit me to escort you. I am unknown here, and can pass through the streets.” Wetherell, as brave, stout and as solid a man as any in England, hesitated. But he saw that it would soon be everyone for himself; and in that event he was doomed. The din was waxing louder and more menacing; the group on the stairs was melting away. In terror on their own account, the officials were beginning to forget his presence. Several had already disappeared, seeking to save themselves, this way and that. Others were going. Every moment the confusion increased, and the panic. He gave way. “You think I ought to go, Vaughan?” he asked in a low voice. “I do, sir,” Vaughan answered. And, entering the Recorder’s room, he brought out Sir Charles’s hat and cloak and hastily thrust them on him, scarcely anyone else attending to them. As he did this his eye alighted on a constable’s staff which lay on the floor where its owner had dropped it. Thinking that, as he was without arms, he might as well possess himself of it, Vaughan left Wetherell’s side and went to pick it up. At that moment a roar of sound, as sudden as the explosion of a gun, burst up the staircase. Two or three cried in a frenzied way that the mob were coming; some fled this way, some that, a few to windows at the back, more to the upper story, while a handful obeyed Vaughan’s call to stand and hold the head of the stairs. For a brief space all was disorder and—save in his neighbourhood—panic. Then a voice below shouted that the soldiers were come, and a general “Thank God! Not a moment too soon!” was heard on all sides. Vaughan made sure that it was true, and then he turned to rejoin Sir Charles. But Wetherell had vanished, and no one could say in which direction. Vaughan hurried upstairs and along the passages in anxious search; but in vain. One told him that Sir Charles had left by a window at the back; another, that he had been seen going upstairs with the Under-Sheriff. He could learn nothing certain; and he was asking himself what he should do next, when the sound of cheering reached his ear. “What is that?” he asked a man who met him as he descended the stairs from the second floor. “They are cheering the soldiers,” the man replied. “I am glad to hear it!” Vaughan exclaimed. “I’d say so too,” the other rejoined glumly, “if I was certain on which side the soldiers were! But you’re wanted, sir, in the drawing-room. The Mayor asked me to find you.”