" The doctor sent her a sharp, quizzical glance. The Master listened, with becoming attention, to the narrative, and, at its conclusion, shook his head gravely, applied his thumb to the side of his nose, and, twirling his fingers significantly, winked at his phlegmatic companion. He wore a long coat, beautifully flowered, and a hat with a turned up brim. Stanley regarded his neighbor’s clean-shaven face almost warily. ‘How do you know?’ ‘Exactly,’ pounced Roding bitterly. Once upon a time she and Roddy had descended thence by the drain-pipe. Where Saint Giles' church stands, once a lazar-house stood; And, chain'd to its gates, was a vessel of wood; A broad-bottom'd bowl, from which all the fine fellows, Who pass'd by that spot, on their way to the gallows, Might tipple strong beer, Their spirits to cheer, And drown in a sea of good liquor all fear! For nothing the transit to Tyburn beguiles So well as a draught from the Bowl of Saint Giles! II.
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