aller than the
rest, so much taller than the rest that it had the effect of a tower;
you would have supposed it (perhaps rightly) to be the last remains
of some ancient building of importance, around which, as population
thickened and fashion changed, the huts below it had insolently sprung
up. Quaint and massive pilasters, black with the mire and soot of
centuries, flanked the deep-set door; the windows were heavy with
mullions and transoms, and strongly barred in the lower floor; but few
of the panes were whole, and only here and there had any attempt been
made to keep out the wind and rain by rags, paper, old shoes, old hats,
and other ingenious contrivances. Beside the door was conveniently
placed a row of some ten or twelve bell-pulls, appertaining no doubt
to the various lodgments into which the building was subdivided. The
stranger did not seem very familiar with the appurtenances of the place.
He stood in some suspense as to the proper bell to select; but at last,
guided by a brass plate annexed to one of the pulls, which, though it
was too dark to decipher the inscription, denoted a claim to superior
gentility to the rest of that nameless class, he hazarded a tug, which
brought forth a 'larum loud enough to startle the whole court from its
stillness.

In a minute or less, the casement in one of the upper stories opened, a
head peered forth, and one of those voices peculiar to low debauch--raw,
cracked, and hoarse--called out: "Who waits?"

"Is it you, Grabman?" asked the stranger, dubiously.

"Yes,--Nicholas Grabman, attorney-at-law, sir, at your service; and your
name?"

"Jason," answered the stranger.

"Ho, there! ho, Beck!" cried the cracked voice to some one within; "go
down and open the door."

In a few moments the heavy portal swung and creaked and yawned sullenly,
and a gaunt form, half-undressed, with an inch of a farthing rushlight
glimmering through a battered lantern in its hand, presented itself to
Jason. The last eyed the ragged porter sharply.

"Do you live here?"

"Yes," answered Beck, with the cringe habitual to him. "H-up the ladder,
vith the rats, drat 'em."

"Well, lead on; hold up the lantern. A devil of a dark place this!"
grumbled Jason, as he nearly stumbled over sundry broken chattels, and
gained a flight of rude, black, broken stairs, that creaked under his
tread.

"'St! 'st!" said Beck between his teeth, as the stranger, halting at the
second floor, demanded, in no gentle