“And what was his name?” asked Reynolds. “Richard Jackson,” replied Steevens. “Of course we never heard the name before. The attack upon Baretti was the worst that could be imagined.” “The world is undoubtedly rid of a great rascal,” said Goldsmith. “Undoubtedly; but that fact will not save our friend from being hanged, should a jury find him guilty,” said Steevens. “We must make an effort to avert so terrible a thing. That is why I came here now; I tried to speak to Baretti, but the constables would not give me permission. They carried my name to him, however, and he sent out a message asking me to go without delay to Sir Joshua and you, as well as Dr. Johnson and Mr. Garrick. He hopes you may find it convenient to attend before Sir John Fielding at Bow street in the morning.” “That we shall,” said Sir Joshua. “He shall have the best legal advice available in England; and, meantime, we shall go to him and tell him that he may depend on our help, such as it is.” The coach in which Steevens had come to Leicester Square was still waiting, and in it they all drove to where Baretti was detained in custody. The constables would not allow them to see the prisoner, but they offered to convey to him any message which his friends might have, and also to carry back to them his reply. Goldsmith was extremely anxious to get from Baretti's own lips an account of the assault which had been made upon him; but he could not induce the constables to allow him to go into his presence. They, however, bore in his message to the effect that he might depend on the help of all his friends in his emergency. Sir Joshua sent for the watchmen by whom the arrest had been effected, and they stated that Baretti had been seized by the crowd--afar from reputable crowd--so soon as it was known that a man had been stabbed, and he had been handed over to the constables, while a surgeon examined the man's wound, but was able to do nothing for him; he had expired in the surgeon's hands. Baretti's statement made to the watch was that he was on his way to the meeting of the Academy, and being very late, he was hurrying through the Haymarket when a woman jostled him, and at the same instant two men rushed out from the entrance to Jermyn street and attacked him with heavy sticks. One of the men closed with him to prevent his drawing his sword, but he succeeded in freeing one arm, and in defending himself with the small fruit knife which he invariably carried about with him, as was the custom in France and Italy, where fruit is the chief article of diet, he had undoubtedly stabbed his assailant, and by a great mischance he must have severed an artery.