Infested by every description of vagabond and miscreant, it was, perhaps, a few degrees worse than the rookery near Saint Giles's and the desperate neighbourhood of Saffron Hill in our own time. “Girls. The costume of this personage was somewhat singular, and might have passed for a masquerading habit, had not the imperturbable gravity of his demeanour forbidden any such supposition. This getting up at dawn—real dawn—and working until seven was a distinct novelty. “You must send for the police at once, you know. That would be myself, or if she lived, Mary’s daughter. “Look, dear,” she said presently, “you can put the ten on the Jack.
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