The fire-bells of Saint Margaret's, Saint George's, and Saint Andrew's, in Botolph-lane, began to toll, and shouts were heard on every side, proving that the whole neighbourhood was roused.
To add to the general distress, a report was raised that a house in Fish-street-hill was on fire, and it was soon found to be true, as an immense volume of flames burst forth in that quarter.

While the rest of the spectators, distracted by this calamity, and hardly knowing what to do, hurried in the direction of the new fire, Chowles and Judith eyed each other askance, and the former whispered to his companion, "This is another piece of Hubert's handiwork." The two wretches now thought it time to bestir themselves.

So much confusion prevailed, that they were wholly unobserved, and under the plea of rendering assistance, they entered houses and carried off whatever excited their cupidity, or was sufficiently portable.

No wealthy house had been attacked as yet, and therefore their spoil was but trifling.

The poor baker seemed to be the bearer of ill-luck, for he had not been many minutes in his new asylum before it likewise caught fire.