CHAPTER CXIII.
THE ROUTE TO NEWGATE—MRS. LOVETT’S DANGER FROM THE MOB.
Mrs. Lovett, upon hearing these words, turned ghastly pale, but she did not speak. The officers looked at each other with something like dismay, and then before either of them could say another word, there arose a wild prolonged shout from without.
“Out with her—out with her! Kill her! Tear her to bits and hang her on the lamp-post in the middle of Bell Yard! Out with her! Drag her out! Hang her! hang her!”
“The coach you say is waiting, Crotchet?” said the officer, who had been intrusted by Sir Richard Blunt with the conduct of the whole business connected with Mrs. Lovett’s capture.
“It were,” said Crotchet, “and that coachman ain’t the sort of fellow to move on till I tell him. I knows him.”
“Very good, then we
