The room behind was another small antechamber, presumably linking the back rooms. Once over the iron spikes, Bess exhibited no reluctance to be let down on the other side of the wall. His fingers slipped under the collar of her linen shift and he tore it open with a swipe. "Oh! that was all, was it?" said the turnkey, quietly reseating himself. But at the beginning of the affray, when he thought every one was too much occupied with his own concerns to remark his absence, he slipped out of the room, not for the purpose of avoiding the engagement (for cowardice was not one of his failings), but because he had another object in view. He had found her in a communicative mood, and he used the accumulated skill of years in turning that to account. “You remember our first meeting?” “Yes,” he answered hoarsely. Strongly impregnated with the mingled odours of tobacco, ale, brandy, and other liquors, the atmosphere was almost stifling.
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