himself against that bargeman!" Rafael
exclaimed, as an enormous boatman--no other than Rullock--indeed, the
most famous bruiser of Cambridge, and before whose fists the Gownsmen
went down like ninepins--fought his way up to the spot where, with
admirable spirit and resolution, Lord Codlingsby and one or two of his
friends were making head against a number of the town.

The young noble faced the huge champion with the gallantry of his race,
but was no match for the enemy's strength and weight and sinew, and
went down at every round. The brutal fellow had no mercy on the lad. His
savage treatment chafed Mendoza as he viewed the unequal combat from the
inn-window. "Hold your hand!" he cried to this Goliath; "don't you see
he's but a boy?"

"Down he goes again!" the bargeman cried, not heeding the interruption.
"Down he goes again: I likes wapping a lord!"

"Coward!" shouted Mendoza; and to fling open the window amidst a shower
of brickbats, to vault over the balcony, to slide down one of the
pillars to the ground, was an instant's work.

At the next he stood before the enormous bargeman.

*****

After the coroner's inquest, Mendoza gave ten thousand pounds to each of
the bargeman's ten children, and it was thus his first acquaintance was
formed with Lord Codlingsby.

But we are lingering on the threshold of the house in Holywell Street.
Let us go in.

III.

Godfrey and Rafael passed from the street into the outer shop of the
old mansion in Holywell Street. It was a masquerade warehouse to all
appearance. A dark-eyed damsel of the nation was standing at the dark
and grimy counter, strewed with old feathers, old yellow hoots, old
stage mantles, painted masks, blind and yet gazing at you with a look of
sad death-like intelligence from the vacancy behind their sockets.

A medical student was trying one of the doublets of orange-tawny and
silver, slashed with dirty light blue. He was going to a masquerade that
night. He thought Polly Pattens would admire him in the dress--Polly
Pattens, the fairest of maids-of-all-work--the Borough Venus, adored by
half the youth of Guy's.

"You look like a prince in it, Mr. Lint," pretty Rachel said, coaxing
him with her beady black eyes.

"It IS the cheese," replied Mr. Lint; "it ain't the dress that don't
suit, my rose of Sharon; it's the FIGURE. Hullo, Rafael, is that you,
my lad of sealing-wax? Come and intercede for me with this wild gazelle;
she says I can't have it