'God bless my soul--and body--oh Lor!--well I!--there are great people at the bottom of these riots, you know .-- You really mustn't.' 'My lord,' said Mr Haredale, 'the murdered gentleman was my brother; I succeeded to his inheritance; there were not wanting slanderous tongues at that time, to whisper that the guilt of this most foul and cruel deed was mine--mine, who loved him, as he knows, in Heaven, dearly.

The time has come, after all these years of gloom and misery, for avenging him, and bringing to light a crime so artful and so devilish that it has no parallel.

Every second's delay on your part loosens this man's bloody hands again, and leads to his escape.

My lord, I charge you hear me, and despatch this matter on the instant.' 'Oh dear me!' cried the chief magistrate; 'these an't business hours, you know--I wonder at you--how ungentlemanly it is of you--you mustn't--you really mustn't .-- And I suppose you are a Catholic too ?' 'I am,' said Mr Haredale.
'God bless my soul, I believe people turn Catholics a'purpose to vex and worrit me,' cried the Lord Mayor.

'I wish you wouldn't come here; they'll be setting the Mansion House afire next, and we shall have you to thank for it.