He had just turned
up by the Middlesex Hospital, and was at no great distance from
Clipstone Street, when a yell and scamper caught his attention; a
group of loafing blackguards on the opposite side of the way had
suddenly broken up, and as they rushed off he heard the word
'Fire!' This was too common an occurrence to disturb his
equanimity; he wondered absently in which street the fire might
be, but trudged on without a thought of making investigation.
Repeated yells and rushes, however, assailed his apathy. Two
women came tearing by him, and he shouted to them: 'Where is it?'
'In Clipstone Street, they say,' one screamed back.
He could no longer be unconcerned. If in his own street the
conflagration might be in the very house he inhabited, and in
that case-- He set off at a run. Ahead of him was a thickening
throng, its position indicating the entrance to Clipstone Street.
Soon he found his progress retarded; he had to dodge this way and
that, to force progress, to guard himself against overthrows by
the torrent of ruffiandom which always breaks forth at the cry of
fire.
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