It was still early—not quite ten o’clock—and the pavement was alive with passengers. I had passed several on entering the little street; and, from the place where I stood, I could see a dozen dark forms flitting about, or loitering by the doors of the houses.
They were all leperos of the low quarter.
The report of my pistol would bring a crowd of them around me; and, although I might disembarrass myself of the footpads, I should be in as much, or more, danger from the patriotas!
I was quite sensible of the perilous situation in which I had placed myself by my imprudent promenade.
As the robbers appeared to have given up their design upon my purse, and were making their best speed to get out of reach of my pistol, I thought the wisest way would be to let them go off.
With this design I was about to content myself—only staying to pick up my cloak, that in the struggle had fallen from my shoulders.
Having recovered it, I commenced taking my departure from the place.
I had not gone six paces, when I became half convinced that I had made a mistake, and that it would have been better to have killed the three thieves. After doing so, I might have found time to steal off unobserved.
Allowing them to escape, I had given them the opportunity to return in greater strength, and under a different pretence from that of their former profession.
A cry that all three raised as they ran down the street, was answered by a score of other voices; and, before I had time to make out its meaning, I was surrounded by a circle of faces, scowling upon me with an expression of unmistakeable hostility.