him unless he does." But when
Dawson saw that Job had left the room, and withdrawn the light, the
conscience-stricken coward came to the door, and implored Job to return.
"Will you swear then?" said Jonson; "I will, I will," was the answer.

Job then re-entered--minutes passed away--Job re-appeared, and Dawson
was dressed, and clinging hold of him--"All's right," said he to me,
with a satisfied air.

The oath had been taken--what it was I know not--but it was never
broken. [Note: Those conversant with the annals of Newgate, will know
how religiously the oaths of these fearful Freemasonries are kept.]

Dawson and Job went first--I followed--we passed the passage, and came
to the chamber of the sleeping Mrs. Brimstone. Job leant eagerly
forward to listen, before we entered; he took hold of Dawson's arm, and
beckoning to me to follow, stole, with a step that a blind mole would
not have heard, across the room. Carefully did the practised thief veil
the candle he carried, with his hand, as he now began to pass by the
bed. I saw that Dawson trembled like a leaf, and the palpitation of his
limbs made his step audible and heavy. Just as they had half-way passed
the bed, I turned my look on Brimstone Bess, and observed, with a
shuddering thrill, her eyes slowly open, and fix upon the forms of my
companions. Dawson's gaze had been bent in the same direction, and when
he met the full, glassy stare of the beldame's eyes, he uttered a faint
scream. This completed our danger; had it not been for that exclamation,
Bess might, in the uncertain vision of drowsiness, have passed over the
third person, and fancied it was only myself and Jonson, in our way from
Dawson's apartment; but no sooner had her ear caught the sound, than she
started up, and sat erect on her bed, gazing at us in mingled wrath and
astonishment.

That was a fearful moment--we stood rivetted to the spot! "Oh, my
kiddies," cried Bess, at last finding speech, "you are in Queer-street,
I trow! Plant your stumps, Master Guinea Pig; you are going to stall
off the Daw's baby in prime twig, eh? But Bess stags you, my cove! Bess
stags you."

Jonson, looked irresolute for one instant; but the next he had decided.
"Run, run," cried he, "for your lives," and he and Dawson (to whom, fear
did indeed lend wings) were out of the room in an instant. I lost no
time in following their example; but the vigilant and incensed hag
was too quick for me; she pulled violently the bell, on