Then came a rush from behind by those eager to earn a guinea and things
became worse. The girl, helped by the young man--she had seen enough of
him to know that he was both young and good-looking--urged her way
through the crowd, and those in front, seeing she looked like a
gentlewoman and knowing nothing of the guinea offered for her capture
stood back and she passed through. At that moment she felt her
companion's grasp relax. Then his fingers slipped from her arm. Some one
had struck him.
"Run to the stairs and take a boat," he whispered. "Perhaps you haven't
any money. Here's my purse," and he pushed it into her hand.
"No, I won't have it," she faltered.
"You must. Quick! Fly!"
"But what of you?"
"I shall stay here, face the mob and give you time to get away."
She would have refused. She would have remained with her champion, but
the swaying mob ordered otherwise. She found herself separated from him
and carried onward whether she would or not. She was terribly frightened
and knew not what to do. Hoarse shouts pursued her; she heard the sound
of blows. Somehow no one seemed to notice her. Probably the fighting was
more to their taste. Suddenly she found herself alone. The archway
called the Traitors' Gate which then formed the entrance to the bridge
from the Surrey side was behind her. Crowds were pouring through the
Gate eager to see what the rumpus was about or to take part in it on the
chance of plunder, and they did not heed the shrinking figure in the
deep doorway of a house close to the bridge.
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