The bell was answered by the servant, who, on finding the door locked, and hearing the row inside, began to knock and inquire loudly what was the matter. The question was more loudly answered by Furlong, who roared out, “Bweak the door! bweak the door!” interlarding his directions with cries of “mu'der!”
The door at length was forced, Furlong rescued, and the old lady separated from him. She became perfectly calm the moment other persons appeared, and was replacing the pistols in her pocket, when Furlong requested the “dweadful weapons” might be seized. The old lady gave up the pistols very quietly, but laid hold of her bird and put it back into her pocket.
“This is a dweadful violation!” said Furlong, “and my life is not safe unless she is bound ove' to keep the peace.”
“Pooh! pooh!” said one of the gentlemen from the adjacent office, who came to the scene on hearing the uproar, “binding over an old lady to keep the peace—nonsense!”
“I insist upon it,” said Furlong, with that stubbornness for which fools are so remarkable.
“Oh—very well!” said the sensible gentleman, who left the room.
A party, pursuant to Furlong's determination, proceeded to the head police-office close by the Castle, and a large mob gathered as they went down Cork-hill and followed them to Exchange-court, where they crowded before them in front of the office, so that it was with difficulty the principals could make their way through the dense mass.
At length, however, they entered the office; and when Major Sir heard any gentleman attached to the Government wanted his assistance, of course he put any other case aside, and had the accuser and accused called up before him.
Furlong made his charge of assault and battery, with intent to murder, &c., &c. “Some mad old rebel, I suppose,” said Major Sir. “Do you remember '98, ma'am?” said the major.
“Indeed I do, sir—and I remember you too: Major Sir I have the honour to address, if I don't mistake.”