Moving swiftly to the end of the corridor, he pushed open a door at random and entered a large room, which looked to have been a saloon, judging from the faded gilt and crimson wall-paper, a mirror above the fireplace which was surrounded by an ornate gilded frame, now sadly tarnished, and a worn Chippendale sofa with striped upholstery and tasselled cushions. “My God!” he said again. While this was effected, intelligence was brought that a formidable mob was pouring down Field Lane, the end of which was barricaded. ‘Alors, I see how is this.
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