cried he. “It’s very clear you don’t know Noogit, let alone Chapel Yard, where all the best men comes to, like yourself. Why, they’ll give you the ’artiest welcome ever you ’ad; you’ve done it big, sir, that you ’ave; and you that young! Come away to Number Ten, I’ll introduce ye, and ye’ll see. Number Ten’s where they’ve all got to, as you can ’ear for yourself.” Along the yard were, indeed, three open doors, and through the farthest of these came oaths and laughter, snatches of song, the ring of money and the rattle of dice.
Tom clutched the wardsman’s sleeve.
“Didn’t you understand? I don’t want them to know who I am—I double your dues if they don’t.”
“But know they must; they’ll soon find it out.”
“It’s half-a-crown a day until they do! Here’s the first shilling, and the rest to-night.”
“Well, as you like. It’ll be ’alf-a-crown a week for use of knives, forks, kittles an’ saucep’ns.”
“Here it is.”
“Thank’ee, master. I never forgit the blokes wot pays in advance. I sha’n’t forgit Thomas Erichsen!”
Tom was blazing. The man with the open mouth was within three yards of them. He rolled his light-blue eyes, and laughed high up in his head as Tom pointed to him in his rage.
“Oh, ’e don’t count,” said the wardsman. “’E’s stark starin’ mad.”
“What! you keep madmen here as well?”
“All sorts—mad—bad—glad an’ sad. See that poor devil against the wall! Now come and I’ll show you Number Twelve.”
The ward was a fair-sized room, with mats hung round the walls, for the prisoners’ beds at night. One such
