There ensued a scene of considerable excitement. Never tell me again
that policemen do not come when they are wanted. As soon as that
whistle was blown blue-coated officials began to appear in all
directions. A policeman running is a sight to be seen--so the general
public with leisure on its hands seemed to think, because each came
attended by a tail of stragglers. What the neighbours thought of the
proceedings Heaven only knows. People stood on the doorsteps, heads
were thrust out of every window. Bangley Gardens had never before
experienced such an occasion in the whole course of its history.
The behaviour of the persons who had lost their purses--or wished me
to believe that they had--was disgraceful. Judging from the sounds
they were wandering over the house wherever their fancy led them. A
scuffle seemed to be taking place on the stairs, another in the hall,
and there was plainly contention in the drawing-room. Mysterious
noises in the basement. Eight or nine excitable people had forced
their way into my room, and, headed by "Sarah Eliza Warren," were
addressing me in a fashion which, to say the least of it, was lacking
in decorum. Meantime the original policeman was standing with his
hands in his belt, waiting for the support of his colleagues before
taking any steps whatever to save my property from being looted.
"Constable!" I screamed, "I am the owner of this house, and I shall
hold you responsible for any damage that is done to my property. Come
inside, I tell you, and turn these people out."
He apparently paid no heed to me whatever; I was not the only one who
was screaming; The people at the drawing-room window were behaving as
if they had just broken loose from Bedlam. From what I afterwards
ascertained it seems as if some of them imagined that they were in for
a colourable imitation of the original affair of the Black Hole of
Calcutta.
Suddenly I became conscious that the proceedings in my immediate
neighbourhood had positively increased in liveliness. Turning, I
perceived that Saunders was engaged in what looked very like a bout of
fisticuffs with still another member of the unemployed; he had
detected him in the act of pocketing a silver statuette. Regardless of
who was standing in the way I rushed to his assistance. I struck out
at somebody--somebody struck out at me. What immediately followed must
have borne a strong family resemblance to the "divarsion" which marked
the occasion of that immortal "Irish christenin'."
"What's the meaning of all this? Who's the owner of this house?"
Never was anything more welcome than the sight of the stalwart,
blue-coated figure of the representative of law and order standing in
the doorway. I tremble to think of what would have happened if his
arrival had been delayed much longer.
"I am--what's left of him."
"Then, if you're the owner of the house, what are all these people
doing in it?"
"Perhaps you will be so good as to ask them; they have certainly not
been invited by me."