o stop in the street of any crowded city is, under any circumstances, an
invitation to others to do likewise which is rarely unaccepted; but when
in addition to this you stand fixedly in one spot and regard with stern
intensity any object near you, the chances are ten to one that you have
several companions in your curiosity before a minute expires.

Now, Webber, who had at first stood still without any peculiar thought in
view, no sooner perceived that he was joined by others than the idea of
making something out of it immediately occurred to him.

"What is it, agra?" inquired an old woman, very much in his own style of
dress, pulling at the hood of his cloak. "And can't you see for yourself,
darling?" replied he, sharply, as he knelt down and looked most intensely
at the sewer.

"Are ye long there, avick?" inquired he of an imaginary individual below,
and then waiting as if for a reply, said,

"Two hours! Blessed Virgin, he's two hours in the drain!"

By this time the crowd had reached entirely across the street, and the
crushing and squeezing to get near the important spot was awful.

"Where did he come from?" "Who is he?" "How did he get there?" were
questions on every side; and various surmises were afloat till Webber,
rising from his knees, said, in a mysterious whisper, to those nearest him,
"He's made his escape to-night out o' Newgate by the big drain, and lost
his way; he was looking for the Liffey, and took the wrong turn."

To an Irish mob what appeal could equal this? A culprit at any time has
his claim upon their sympathy; but let him be caught in the very act of
cheating the authorities and evading the law, and his popularity knows
no bounds. Webber knew this well, and as the mob thickened around him
sustained an imaginary conversation that Savage Landor might have envied,
imparting now and then such hints concerning the runaway as raised their
interest to the highest pitch, and fifty different versions were related on
all sides,--of the crime he was guilty of, the sentence that was passed on
him, and the day he was to suffer.

"Do you see the light, dear?" said Webber, as some ingeniously benevolent
individual had lowered down a candle with a string,--"do ye see the light?
Oh, he's fainted, the creature!" A cry of horror burst forth from the crowd
at these words, followed by a universal shout of, "Break open the street."

Pickaxes, shovels, spades, and crowbars seemed absolutely the walking
accom