Madame Flirt / A Romance of 'The Beggar's Opera'

by Charles Edward Pearce

The sequel to the discomposing interruption was totally unpremeditated. Polly was the "toast of the town," the idol of the sparks of fashion. Their applause was uproarious when she and Lucy recommenced the duet, but this sympathetic encouragement was not enough for the more ardent spirits. When she issued from the stage door she found awaiting her a bodyguard of young aristocrats dressed in the height of the mode and in the gayest of colours. At her appearance every man's sword flashed from its scabbard and was uplifted to do her honour.

Never was such a triumph. No wonder her heart bounded and her cheeks flushed with pleasure. She smiled right and left and bowed; the rapiers on either side crossed each other over her head and formed a canopy under which she walked with a dainty grace. She was not permitted to pass from beneath its shelter. The canopy kept pace with her, closing behind. And in this way the procession set out to cross Lincoln's Inn Fields amid cheers and shouts of "Pretty Polly Peachum!"

It would seem as though the services of Polly's protectors were not wholly unneeded. As she emerged from the door and the gallants closed round her there was a sudden movement in the mob, a fellow forced his way through, hurling curses at anyone who tried to stop him. Apparently his object was to get to a man standing close to the bodyguard. Anyway, when the intruder was behind this man a woman's scream pierced the din of voices, then came the report of a pistol and the man staggered. Those nearest him, seized with panic, fell back and he sank to the ground.

A woman was seen to fling herself on her knees, bend over the body and gaze into the face already becoming ashen. The next instant she sprang to her feet, her features drawn, her eyes blazing. Pointing to the assassin who was rushing through the crowd she begged someone to stop him, but the big pistol he was flourishing deterred them.

"Cowards!" she screamed in fury. "Will no one seize a murderer? If you're men you'll help me."

She made a wild rush in the direction the ruffian had taken and a score or so of apprentices and a handful of Clare Market butchers recovering from their surprise joined her.

Meanwhile Polly and her escort gaily went on their way. They were dimly conscious of the affray but such occurrences at night and especially in Lincoln's Inn Fields were frequent, and not one of the party heeded. How indeed could Polly imagine that her romance had ended in a tragedy, that the man lying so still, his white face upturned to the moonlit sky, was her lover, Lancelot Vane—that the man who had done him to death was Jeremy Rofflash—that the woman in hot chase of his murderer was Sally Salisbury?

Rofflash had made for the network of courts and allies of Clare Market hoping to double upon his pursuers and gain the Strand, and then hurry to the Alsatia of Whitefriars. But some of those following knew the intricacies of Clare Market better than Rofflash, and he twisted and turned like a hunted hare, his difficulties momentarily increasing, for as the excited mob fought their way through the narrow lanes their numbers swelled. True, Jeremy Rofflash made his way to the Strand without being captured, but he failed to reach Whitefriars. The Strand and Fleet Street gave his pursuers a better chance. But because of his pistol none dared touch him.

Despite his limp he could run. Along Ludgate skirting St. Paul's, he was soon in Cheapside. By this time Sally Salisbury was nearly exhausted, and in St. Paul's Churchyard she jumped into a hackney coach and shaking her purse at the driver bade him join in the pursuit. The Poultry, the Royal Exchange were left behind, but the coach—with Sally inside continually calling upon the driver to go faster, at the same time promising him any reward he liked to ask—gradually drew upon the fugitive. The latter was close to the road leading to London Bridge, and turning, he fired his second barrel at the horse and the animal stumbled and fell.

Rofflash thought he was safe, but he was not aware that the leader of his pursuers was Sally Salisbury and that she knew perfectly well why he was running towards the bridge. She sprang from the now useless coach and called upon the crowd to follow her. Meanwhile Rofflash had distanced his pursuers.