Then, in single file, about a yard behind each other, and every man with his right leg attached by a ring to a long chain that extended the entire length of the party, came ten men clad in garments of very coarse serge, and with closely-cropped heads.
The instant he saw them in the distance, young Jack guessed what it meant, and pointed the gang out to the others.
"Let us get away if we can," said he.
"Why?" asked Harvey.
"Because it will look as though we came here simply to gloat over their disgrace," replied Jack.
"Right, my boy."
But there was no way of avoiding them, as there was no turning out of the street, and all the house doors were closed, so they were compelled to see all.
First of all came seven of the lowest-looking ruffians in creation, villains whose countenances were expressive of nothing but brutality and vice; the eighth was Chivey, whose cheeks bore traces of tears, and the ninth was Pierre Lenoir, who walked erect and proud as Lucifer, except when he made a half turn about as though he would like to strangle Herbert Murray, who walked with tottering steps at the end of the chain.
"Poor fellows!" said Mrs. Harkaway.
"They deserve it," exclaimed her husband and Harvey, simultaneously. "They tried to get our boys the very punishment that has overtaken them."