"You're my prisoner, sir," said Vice, walking up to Aubrey, and with an air of matter-of-fact brutality taking hold of his collar with one hand, while in the other he held out his warrant. "If you like to clap a great-coat on, as it's getting late, you may; but the sooner you're off out of the way of all this here noise, the better--I should say." "For God's sake wait for a few minutes--I have a friend coming," said Aubrey, his wife clinging to his arm. "D----d if I wait a moment, that's flat!" quoth Vice, glancing at the two boxes in the passage, and guessing from them, and the travelling dress of Mrs. Aubrey, that he had arrived just in the very nick of time to prevent an escape. "For the love of Heaven, stay only five minutes!" cried Kate, passionately wringing her hands--but she might as well have addressed a blacksmith's anvil as either of the men who were now masters of her doomed brother's person. "'Tis useless, Kate--'tis in vain, my love!" said he, with a melancholy air; and turning to Vice, who, with his companion, stood at only a few inches' distance from him--"perhaps you will allow me to write down the address of the place you are taking me to?" he inquired somewhat sternly. "Write away then, and make haste; for, write or not write, you're off in two minutes' time!" Mr. Aubrey hastily wrote down in pencil, for Mr. Runnington, "Vice--Squeezum Court, Carey Street, Lincoln's-Inn Fields;" and then, having hastily drawn on his great-coat, without taking with him even a change of linen, (for Vice would seem to have got the idea of a rescue into his head, and was, besides, anxious to run not the least risk with a _ten thousand pounds' debtor_), tore himself from the frenzied embrace of his wife and sister, and quitted the house. Vice had refused even to let his man go in quest of a hackney-coach, or to wait while Fanny ran for one; and the moment they had got into the street, the cries of Mrs. Aubrey and Kate yet ringing in Mr. Aubrey's ears, Vice put his arm with rough familiarity into that of Mr. Aubrey, directing his follower to do the same; and in this style they hurried Mr. Aubrey along the whole of the distance between Vivian Street and Squeezum Court; he uttering not one single word--but his heart almost bursting. Vice had received his instructions from Mr. Spitfire, who was a very dashing practitioner; and perfectly well knowing the value of every day towards the close of term, had got his affidavit of debt prepared and ready sworn, and everything in readiness, even before the rule had been made absolute against Mr. Gammon. As the two captors and their prize--a gentleman between two ruffians--passed at a smart pace along the streets, they attracted considerable attention; now and then, even a little crowd would follow them for half the length of the street. Once Mr. Aubrey caught the words--"Poor fellow! Forgery, no doubt--he's a dead man in a month!"[11]