For she and this old lady became at once friends. Between herself and yonder evil mind she had the strongest buckler God could give—love. Above was a spacious hall, connected with it by a flight of stone steps, at the further end of which stood an immense grated door, called in the slang of the place "The Jigger," through the bars of which the felons in the upper wards were allowed to converse with their friends, or if they wished to enter the room, or join the revellers below, they were at liberty to do so, on payment of a small fine. "Where are the packets committed to your charge by Sir Rowland Trenchard?" "The packets!" exclaimed Kneebone, in alarm. It had ceased now, but as he closed in on the area, a faint muttering came to his ears. In any case, there was no doing anything on a Sunday and Brewis Charvill, his main quarry, had gone out of town unexpectedly. "His disguise was capital; but I detected it in a moment. Sydney was watching her eagerly. So you are Prudence Remenham.
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