She took Mark Antony’s hand--piloted him down stairs--the ratcatcher followed--and when both had gained the street, she shut the door suddenly, leaving her lover and his friend, as they say in Ireland, “on the right side to run away.” The rapidity with which Mrs. Spicer had effected their deliverance, enabled Mark Antony and his companion to reach the street so close upon the heels of the ruffians, that they saw them turn the corner. By a sort of mutual consent, they too took the same direction; and, keeping the scoundrels in sight, regulated their movements as they proceeded. As the clock struck ten, St. Paul’s churchyard was at the same moment honoured with the presence of divers personages--to wit, myself and the _incognita_, the Jew and the hunchback--and, by a strange accident, the fosterer and Shemus Rhua. How singular--that my deliverance from certain death should have been effected through the agency of my foster brother! While the parties paused for a few moments in the church-yard, the brief remarks that passed indicated the feelings and business of the triads. “How imprudent this meeting must appear, sir! and how unguarded in a female to venture out at this unseasonable hour!” was whispered in the softest voice imaginable to some remark of mine, as I passed the arm of the _incognita_ through mine. “By Heaven, the thing is safe!” said the hunchbacked villain, in an under-tone, to his confederate. “See how blindly the poor flat runs into the snare, and follows the beck of the deepest dodger that ever betrayed a fool! Stick close; and mind your blow! Oh, that I had man’s strength!--there’s not in Britain one who loves a daring deed more dearly.--Would that the arm was equal to the heart!--How I shall delight to see that tall idiot, who would stare or smile at my deformity, grovelling on the earth, and wondering how he contrived to get his skull cracked, while he thought only of Julia’s charms, and fancied himself in full security.” “Can ye see them, captain?” whispered the fosterer; “I can’t distinctly, the night’s so dark.” “Many a darker one I have watched the soldiers pass me on the heather, after I was an outlaw,” replied the ratcatcher. “I see a man and woman. See, they turn to the right, under yonder drowsy-looking lamp; and there--those other two--one the dark scoundrel we overheard, and the cursed cripple he was talkin’ to. What are we to do, Mark?” “Stick to the villains like a brace of blood-hounds,” replied the fosterer. “I don’t half like it,” said the ratcatcher; “remember, Mark, how nearly I was being hanged about the tailor’s wife. There’s sure to be murder; and, holy Mary! all this comes out of taa-drinkin’!”