Several peasants now came forward, each professing to know exactly
whither Cashel had been making when he crossed the glade. While they
were disputing, many persons resembling the hook-nosed captive in
general appearance sneaked into the crowd and regarded the police
with furtive hostility. Soon after, a second detachment of police
came up, with another prisoner and another crowd, among whom was
Bashville.
"Better go in, mum," said the policeman who had spoken to Lydia
first. "We must keep together, being so few, and he ain't fit for
you to look at."
But Lydia had looked already, and had guessed that the last prisoner
was Paradise, although his countenance was damaged beyond
recognition. His costume was like that of Cashel, except that he was
girt with a blue handkerchief with white spots, and his shoulders
were wrapped in a blanket, through one of the folds of which his
naked ribs could be seen, tinged with every hue that a bad bruise
can assume. A shocking spectacle appeared where his face had
formerly been. A crease and a hole in the midst of a cluster of
lumps of raw flesh indicated the presence of an eye and a mouth; the
rest of his features were indiscernible. He could still see a
little, for he moved his puffed and lacerated hand to arrange his
blanket, and demanded hoarsely, and with greatly impeded
articulation, whether the lady would stand a dram to a poor fighting
man wot had done his best for his backers. On this some one produced
a flask, and Mellish volunteered, provided he were released for a
moment, to get the contents down Paradise's throat. As soon as the
brandy had passed his swollen lips he made a few preliminary sounds,
and then shouted, "He sent for the coppers because he couldn't stand another round. I
am ready to go on."
The policemen bade him hold his tongue, closed round him, and hid
him from Lydia, who, without showing the mingled pity and loathing
with which his condition inspired her, told them to bring him to the
castle, and have him attended to there. She added that the whole
party could obtain refreshment at the same time. The sergeant, who
was very tired and thirsty, wavered in his resolution to continue
the pursuit. Lydia, as usual, treated the matter as settled.
"Bashville," she said, "will you please show them the way, and see
that they are satisfied."
"Some thief has stole my coat," said Mellish, sullenly, to
Bashville. "If you'll lend me one, governor, and these blessed
policemen will be so kind as not to tear it off my back, I'll send
it down to you in a day or two. I'm a respectable man, and have been
her ladyship's tenant here."