“I am afraid for you--of these blackguards; of the mood he’s in; of where he’s taking us; of what may happen. I don’t know what devil’s trick it is he has been playing, but I’m sure it is a devil’s trick, and there may be worse to come.” “I’m safe with you.” “I doubt it.” “But I am sure. The light is coming; I’d like to see the brightness of the day, for mine honour’s sake, which I thought might be a consideration, perhaps, with you. Still, I’m under orders. If you bid me I will go. But--mayn’t I come?” I could deny her nothing which she asked in such a tone, though it were an apple out of Eden. But I was gruff. “Then take my arm.” “I’d like to.” I know I was a fool, and should have forbidden her to go with us, nor have allowed her, wheedle as she might, to have run the risk of what might be to come; but when I felt her little hand upon my arm, I would not have had her take it off again, not--not for a great deal. When we had gone a little way from the station, Mr. Bernstein, corkscrewing his way through the crowd, reached Lawrence’s side. Apparently, although he had made an effort to screw his courage to the sticking point, he was still not quite satisfied as to the sort of reception which he might receive; he spoke with such an air of deprecation. “Now, Ted, dear boy, don’t be shirty, it’s only me. Do take my advice--be careful! Don’t go too far! Be reasonable, and I’ll be the best friend you ever had, as I always have been; only--do pull up before it’s too late!” Lawrence, standing still, addressed himself to the crowd. “Gentlemen--and ladies!--because I believe there are some ladies among you--real ladies!--allow me to introduce to you Mr. Isaac Bernstein, usurer, Jew, who makes a speciality of dealing in forged bills. He keeps a school for forgers, where young penmen are trained in the delicate arts of imitating other people’s signatures. He’s been the cause of many a good man’s being sent to gaol; where, one day, as sure as he’s alive, he’ll go to join them.” Mr. Bernstein stammered and stuttered. “Don’t--don’t talk to me like that! The--the man’s stark mad!” “Not yet. Still sane enough to make the world acquainted with Isaac Bernstein, trafficker in forgeries.” With his open palm he struck the Jew a resounding blow on either cheek. The people roared with laughter. I turned to the lady. “You see? I must go to him. I shall have to leave you.” “We will go together.” She kept close to my side as I went forward. I expected to see Lawrence repeat his assault. Bernstein stood looking at him, motionless, gasping for breath, as if he were on the verge of an apoplectic fit. Taking him by the shoulder I sent him spinning off the pavement. “Leave him alone. The fellow will get his deserts elsewhere.” Lawrence clapped his hands like a child. “Bravo! Twirl him round--roll him in the mud! She enjoys it; can’t you hear how she’s laughing?” He raised his hand in an attitude of attention. “I can hear nothing.”