He found his breakfast laid in the next room, the coffee and bacon in a Japan cat by the fire. He ate and drank in an atmosphere of gloomy retrospect. If he had never met Flixton! If he had not gone to that unlucky dinner at Chippinge! If he had spoken to her in Parliament Street! If—if—if! The bells of half a dozen churches were ringing, drumming his regrets into him; and he stood awhile irresolute, looking through the window. The inn-yard, which was all the prospect the window commanded, was empty; an old liver-and-white pointer, scratching itself in a corner, was the only living thing in it. But while he looked, wondering if the dog had been a good dog in its time, two men came running into the yard with every sign of haste and pressure. One, in a yellow jacket, flung himself against a stable door and vanished within, leaving the door open. The other pounced on a chaise, one of half a dozen ranged under a shed, and by main force dragged it into the open. The men’s actions impressed Vaughan with a vague uneasiness. He listened. Was it fancy, or did he catch the sound of a distant shot? And—there seemed to be an odd murmur in the air. He seized his hat, put on his caped coat—for a cold drizzle was falling—and went downstairs. The hall was empty, but through the open doorway he could see a knot of people, standing outside, looking up the street. He made for the threshold, and asked the rearmost of the starers what it was. “Eh, what is it?” the man answered volubly. “Oh, they’re gone! It’s true enough! And such a crowd as was never seen, I’m told—stoning them, and shouting ‘Bloody Blues!’ after them. They’re gone right away to Keynsham, and glad to be there with whole bones!” “But what is it?” Vaughan asked impatiently. “What has happened, my man? Who’re gone?” The man turned for the first time, and saw who it was. “You have not heard, sir?” he exclaimed. “Not a word.” “Not that the people have risen? And most part pulled down the Mansion House? Ay, first thing this morning, sir! They say old Pinney, the Mayor, got out at the back just in time or he’d have been murdered! He’s had to send the military away—anyways, the Blues who killed the lad last night on the Pithay.” “Impossible!” Vaughan exclaimed, turning red with anger. “You cannot have heard aright.” “It’s as true as true!” the man replied, rubbing his hands in excitement. “As for me,” he continued, “I was always for Reform! And this will teach the Lords a lesson! They’ll know our mind now, and that Wetherell’s a liar, begging your pardon, sir. And the old Corporation’s not much better. A set of Tories mostly! If the Welsh Back drinks their cellars dry it won’t hurt me, nor Bristol.”