For awhile they were unnoticed in the general excitement, then Mr. Sidney's appearance was remarked. His plumed hat, his sword, his curling peruke, and the rich velvet mantle that concealed his person instantly told them that he was not of their class. Suspicion was roused that he was a spy of the Court, and they began to rudely jostle him; but the sailor, who kept closely beside him, laughed good-humouredly, and cried—
"Gently, my friends. We are good Protestants come to see the burning of the Devil and the Pope."
"Sure," came a quick answer, "if you were popish dogs you would scarce be here to-night!"
Sidney smiled at the eager young man who spoke.
"No," he said. "Long live the King, the Church, and the Laws—eh, my friend?"
"I do not know so much about the first—but all my heart the second and third!"
The sailor looked sharply at the speaker, who was a youth of two- or three-and-twenty, very plainly dressed, almost shabby, with a keen, dark face, intelligent, ardent eyes, and a quantity of untidy curly hair. He seemed to be a student or clerk, and was obviously the leading spirit of a band of youths of his own age, who were making most of the noise and clamour.
He in his turn closely scrutinized the sailor, then said, in abrupt tones of friendliness—
"I'll get you through. You and the gentleman get behind me, and I'll make 'em give away——"
With the quick energy that seemed his characteristic he shouldered his way through the press and forced a passage for Mr. Sidney and the sailor, bringing them to the steps of the church, where they had a good view over the crowd, and stood directly behind the bonfire.