Whitefriars had lost its privileges; Salisbury Court and the Savoy no longer offered places of refuge to the debtor; and it was, therefore, doubly requisite that the Island of Bermuda (as the Mint was termed by its occupants) should uphold its rights, as long as it was able to do so. Mr. Wood, meantime, had not remained idle. Aware that not a moment was to be lost, if he meant to render any effectual assistance to the child, he ceased shouting, and defending himself in the best way he could from the attacks of Rowland, by whom he was closely pressed, forced his way, in spite of all opposition, to Davies, and dealt him a blow on the head with such good will that, had it not been for the intervention of the wall, the ruffian must have been prostrated. Before he could recover from the stunning effects of the blow, Wood possessed himself of the child: and, untying the noose which had been slipped round its throat, had the satisfaction of hearing it cry lustily. At this juncture, Sir Cecil and his followers appeared at the threshold. “He has escaped!” exclaimed the knight; “we have searched every corner of the house without finding a trace of him.” “Back!” cried Rowland. “Don't you hear those shouts? Yon fellow's clamour has brought the whole horde of jail-birds and cut-throats that infest this place about our ears. We shall be torn in pieces if we are discovered. Davies!” he added, calling to the attendant, who was menacing Wood with a severe retaliation, “don't heed him; but, if you value a whole skin, come into the house, and bring that woman with you. She may afford us some necessary information.” Davies reluctantly complied. And, dragging Mrs. Sheppard, who made no resistance, along with him, entered the house, the door of which was instantly shut and barricaded. A moment afterwards, the street was illumined by a blaze of torchlight, and a tumultuous uproar, mixed with the clashing of weapons, and the braying of horns, announced the arrival of the first detachment of Minters. Mr. Wood rushed instantly to meet them. “Hurrah!” shouted he, waving his hat triumphantly over his head. “Saved!” “Ay, ay, it's all bob, my covey! You're safe enough, that's certain!” responded the Minters, baying, yelping, leaping, and howling around him like a pack of hounds when the huntsman is beating cover; “but, where are the lurchers?” “Who?” asked Wood. “The traps!” responded a bystander. “The shoulder-clappers!” added a lady, who, in her anxiety to join the party, had unintentionally substituted her husband's nether habiliments for her own petticoats. “The ban-dogs!” thundered a tall man, whose stature and former avocations had procured him the nickname of “The long drover of the Borough market.” “Where are they?” “Ay, where are they?” chorussed the mob, flourishing their various weapons, and flashing their torches in the air; “we'll starve 'em out.”