‘I’ll do nothing of the kind.’ ‘If you don’t hear me, Sir Watkin, you’ll be sorry as long as you live.’ By this time the crowd had been attracted to the spot, and the situation was becoming unpleasant to the Baronet, who formed the centre of an amazed group, to whom the annoyance of the Baronet and the tipsy gravity of the woman were more than slightly amusing. Sir Watkin attempted to move off. The poor woman endeavoured to stop him. In the attempt she overbalanced herself, and fell prostrate on the earth, to the intense delight of the spectators, who enjoyed the scene amazingly. ‘Sir Watkin, I say,’ said his persecutor, rising slowly from her recumbent position; ‘Sir Watkin, I say!’ But the baronet was gone, and, instead, the woman found herself being assisted gently off the ground by an efficient policeman, who, seeing a crowd of a peaceful character, thought it becoming to interfere. Had the crowd been of a different complexion, and had there been any fighting going on, the chances are the policeman—with the usual instinct of his order for a sound skin or an uncracked skull—would have been looking steadfastly in quite an opposite direction. They all do it, and it is natural. The man had already asked Sir Watkin if he would have her given in charge, an offer Sir Watkin declined. He had no wish, he said, to be hard on her; he only wished her to leave him alone. That was quite enough. The crowd naturally sided with the Baronet. He was the great man of the district. ‘What business had a wretched woman like that to interfere with him? Just like her imperence!’ said the majority. One or two, more curious than the rest, followed the woman, with a view to learn further particulars; but she was, for a wonder, reticent. She was not Sall—but Sall’s friend and ally. Not if wild horses were to drag her in twain would she disclose her secret. It was one between Sir Watkin and herself alone. Sir Watkin rejoined his friends, trusting that they had not been eye-witnesses of his adventure. Just at that moment he had no wish to have scandal or mystery attaching to his name. Hitherto, his appearance had been quite a success, and the British merchant and his daughter were duly impressed with the respect and attention he had everywhere commanded. ‘We’ve missed you much, Sir Watkin,’ said the lady in a tone which flattered his vanity and raised his hopes. ‘Yes, the crowd cruelly separated us for a few minutes.’ ‘A few minutes!’ said the lady; ‘it seemed to me a long time.’ ‘You make me proud,’ said the Baronet. ‘It is something to be missed by one who has always so many admirers.’ ‘You flatter me, Sir Watkin. But, seriously, what was all the fuss about?’ ‘Only a tipsy woman.’ ‘How shocking! But, good gracious, there she is again.’