s a rule but few passers-by availed themselves of this short and narrow
cut down to the river-side. Nathless, the unarmed citizen was scared by
these dank and dreary shadows, whilst the city watchman, mindful of his
own safety, was wont to pass the mean street by.

Only my Lord Protector's new police-patrol fresh to its onerous task,
solemnly marched down it once in twenty-four hours, keeping shoulder to
shoulder, looking neither to right nor left, thankful when either issue
was once more within sight.

But in this same evening in August, 1657, it seemed as if quite a number
of people had business in Bath Street off the Strand. At any rate this
was specially noticeable after St. Mary's had struck the hour of nine,
when several cloaked and hooded figures slipped, one after another, some
singly, others in groups of two or three, into the shadow of the narrow
lane.

They all walked in silence, and did not greet one another as they
passed; some cast from time to time furtive looks behind them; but
every one of these evening prowlers seemed to have the same objective,
for as soon as they reached the crippled archway, they disappeared
within the gloom of its yawning mouth.

Anon when the police-patrol had gone by and was lost in the gloom there
where Bath Street debouches on the river bank, two of these heavily
cloaked figures walked rapidly down from the Strand, and like the others
slipped quickly under the archway, and made straight for the narrow door
on the left of the passage.

This door was provided with a heavy bronze knocker, but strangely enough
the newcomers did not avail themselves of its use, but rapped on the
wooden panels with their knuckles, giving three successive raps at
regular intervals.

They were admitted almost immediately, the door seemingly opening of
itself, and they quickly stepped across the threshold.

Within the house was just as dark and gloomy as it was without, and as
the two visitors entered, a voice came from out the shadows, and said,
in a curious monotone and with strange irrelevance:

"The hour is late!"

"And 'twill be later still," replied one of the newcomers.

"Yet the cuckoo hath not called," retorted the voice.

"Nor is the ferret on the prowl," was the enigmatic reply. Whereupon
the voice speaking in more natural tones added sententiously:

"Two flights of steps, and 'ware the seventeenth step on the first
flight. Door on the left, two raps, then three."

"Thank you,