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CHAPTER XX. ” He dropped his eye-glass with a clatter. ‘If you care for me at all, shoot me. These things were common knowledge among the bon ton, who were generously welcoming these unfortunate escapees. Spurling, formerly, it may be remembered, the hostess of the Dark House at Queenhithe,—whence wine, ale, and brandy of inferior quality were dispensed, in false measures, and at high prices, throughout the prison, which in noise and debauchery rivalled, if it did not surpass, the lowest tavern. A vein of conviction mingled with his burlesque. ” He drank.
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