"I had been very foolish I know," I replied, humbly.

"But Fred's as steady as a judge now," said Jack, interposing for my relief.

"It's nearly time he was," replied my uncle, "unless he has made up his mind to ruin himself. He's given up all his wild friends, I hope?"

"Oh yes, every one," said I; "haven't I, Jack?"

"Yes, he's nothing to do with them now," said Jack.

"And he spends his evenings in something better than drinking and gambling and that sort of thing?"

This was pleasant for me. As the question appeared to be addressed to Jack, I allowed him to answer it for me.

"Well," said my uncle, after a few more similar inquiries had been satisfactorily answered, "I hope what you tell me is true. It may seem as if I did not care much what became of you, Fred. And as long as you went on in the way you did, no more I did. You had chosen your friends, and you might get on the best you could with them. But now, if you have done what you say you have and given them up--"

At that moment there was a sudden tumult on the stairs outside, which made us all start. It was a sound of scuffling and laughter and shouting, in the midst of which my uncle's voice was drowned. Whoever the visitors were, they appeared not to be quite sure of their quarters, for they were trying every door they came to on their way up. At length they came nearer, and a voice, the tones of which were only too familiar, shouted, "Come on, you fellows. We'll smoke him out.

Batchelor ahoy there! Wonder if he lives on the roof."

It was Whipcord's voice, whom I had not seen since my accident, and who now had fixed on this evening of all others to come with his friends and pay me a visit!

"It's Whipcord," I said to Jack; "he mustn't come in! Let's barricade the door, anything to keep them out."

Jack, who looked fully as alarmed as I did, was quite ready to agree, but my uncle, who had hitherto been an astounded witness of the interruption, interfered, and said, "No--they shall come in. These are some of your reformed friends, I suppose, Mr Fred. I'd like to see them. Let them come in."

"Oh no, uncle," I cried, in agitation, "they mustn't come in, indeed they mustn't, they are--"

As I spoke the shouting outside increased twofold, and at the same moment the door was flung open, and Whipcord, Crow, the Field-Marshal, the Twins, Daly, and Masham, burst into the room!

Is it any wonder if, as I looked first at them, then at my uncle, a feeling of utter despair took possession of me?

They were all, evidently, in a highly festive state of mind and ready for any diversion.

"Here he is," cried Whipcord, who appeared to be leader of the party.

"Here you are, Batch, my boy--we got your address at the police-station and came to look you up, and oh, I say, what a glorious old codger!"

This last note of admiration was directed to my uncle, who sat sternly back in his chair, gazing at the intruders with mingled wrath and astonishment.

"I say, introduce us, Batch," said the Field-Marshal, "and to the other aristocrat, too, will you?"

"Why, that's Bull's-eye," cried Crow. "You know, Twins, the fellow I told you about who's--"

"Oh, that's the Botany Bay hero, is it?" cried Masham. "I must shake hands with him. One doesn't get the chance of saying how d'ye do to a real gaol-bird every day. How are you, Treadmill?"

Jack, whose face was very pale, and whose eyes flashed fiercely, remained motionless, and with an evident effort, as Masham held out his hand.

"What--thinks we aren't good enough for him, does he?" said Masham.

"So used to the handcuffs," said Abel, "doesn't know how to use his hands, that's it."

"But we don't know yet who this old weatherc.o.c.k is," cried Whipcord, turning again to my uncle. "What do they call you at home, old Stick- in-the-mud?" and he nudged him in the ribs by way of emphasis.

It was time I interposed. Hitherto, in sheer helplessness, I had stood by and watched the invasion with silent despair. Now, however, that my uncle seemed to be in danger of rough handling, something must be done.

"If you fellows have any pretence to be called gentlemen," I shouted, in tones choked with mingled shame and anger, "you will leave Jack's room and mine."

"Jack's! who's Jack? Is the old p.a.w.nbroker called Jack, then? Oh, I say, you fellows," cried Whipcord, dropping on a chair, and nearly choking himself with a fit of laughter. "Oh, you fellows, I've got it at last. I've got it. Jack! I know who it is."

"Who is it?" cried the others.

"Why, can't you guess?" yelled Whipcord.

"No! Who?"

"Jack Ketch!"

This new idea was taken up with the utmost rapture, and my uncle was forthwith dubbed with his fresh t.i.tle.

"Three cheers for Uncle Ketch, you fellows!" shouted Whipcord.

The cheers were given with great hubbub. Then my uncle was called upon for a speech, and, as he declined, a proposal was made to compel him.

Up to this time, protest as well as resistance had seemed worse than useless. Jack and I were only two against seven, and our visitors were hardly in a condition to give us fair play, even if we did come to blows. But our wrath had been gradually approaching boiling-point, and now the time seemed to have come to brave all consequences and a.s.sert ourselves.

Whipcord and Masham had each seized one of my uncle's arms, with a view to carry out their threat, when by a mutual impulse Jack, and I a.s.sumed the defensive and rushed into the fray. Both our adversaries were, of course, utterly unprepared for such a demonstration, and in consequence, and before they could either of them take in the state of affairs, they were sprawling at full length on the floor. The whole action was so rapidly executed that it was not for a moment or two that the rest of the party took in the fact that the affair was something more than a joke. When, however, they did so, a general engagement ensued, in which Jack and I, even with the unlooked-for and gallant aid of my uncle, could do very little against superior numbers.

What the upshot might have been--whether we should have been eventually ejected from our own lodgings, or whether the invaders would presently have wearied of their sport and made off of their own accord--I cannot say, but just as things were looking at their worst for us an opportune diversion occurred which turned the tide of battle.

This was none other than the simultaneous arrival of Billy and Flanagan.

The latter, I recollected, had promised to look in during the evening, to see how Jack had fared at the examination.

In the general confusion the new-comers entered the room almost unnoticed. The unexpected scene which met their eyes in our usually quiet quarters naturally alarmed them, and it was a second or more before, in the midst of all the riot, they could make out what was the matter.

Billy was the first to recover himself. The sight of Jack Smith being attacked by Masham was quite enough for him, and, with a cry of, "Do you hear, you let him be!" he sprang upon his patron's a.s.sailant like a young tiger.

Poor, gallant Billy! Masham, taken aback to find himself thus attacked by a small boy who seemed to come from nowhere, recoiled for an instant before his vigorous onslaught. But it was only for an instant.

Stepping back, and leaving the others to engage Jack and me, he seized the boy by the arm, and, dealing him a blow on the side of the head, flung him savagely to the floor, adding a brutal kick as he lay there, stunned and senseless at his feet.

The sight of this outrage was all that was wanted to rouse us to one desperate effort to rid ourselves of our cowardly invaders. Jack closed in an instant with Masham, and by sheer force carried him to the door and literally flung him from the room. The others, one by one, followed. Some, half ashamed at the whole proceeding, slunk away of their own accord; the others, seeing themselves worsted, lost spirit, and made but a slight resistance to our united a.s.sault, now vigorously reinforced by Flanagan.

The last to leave was Whipcord, who endeavoured to carry the thing off with his usual swagger to the last. "Well, ta, ta, Batch," he said; "we just looked in to see how you were, that's all. Thanks for the jolly evening. By-bye, old Jack Ketch, and--"

And here, in consequence of a sudden forward movement from Flanagan, he hurriedly withdrew, and left us for the first time that evening with leisure to look about us.

It was no time, however, for asking questions or giving explanations.

An exclamation from Jack turned all attention to Billy, who lay still unconscious and as white as a sheet where he had fallen. Jack gently raised him and laid him on the bed. "Open the window, somebody," said he.

The air seemed to revive the boy somewhat, for he opened his eyes and looked vacantly round. But a fit of sickness followed this partial recovery, and again he swooned.