a
rusty grate and broken chimney-piece; in the other there was a sort of
box, contrived between the wall and the boards, that looked like an
apology for a cupboard. Towards this box Sharples directed his steps,
and, unlocking a hatch in the door, disclosed a recess scarcely as
large, and certainly not as clean, as a dog-kennel.

"Vill this do?" demanded the constable, taking the candle from the
lantern, the better to display the narrow limits of the hole. "I call
this ere crib the Little-Ease, arter the runaway prentices' cells in
Guildhall. I _have_ squeezed three kids into it afore now. To be sure,"
he added, lowering his tone, "they wos little 'uns, and one on 'em was
smothered--ough! ough!--how this cough chokes me!"

Sheppard, meanwhile, whose hands were at liberty, managed to possess
himself, unperceived, of the spike of a halbert, which was lying, apart
from the pole, upon a bench near him. Having secured this implement, he
burst from his conductor, and, leaping into the hatch, as clowns
generally spring into the clock-faces, when in pursuit of harlequin in
the pantomime,--that is, back foremost,--broke into a fit of loud and
derisive laughter, kicking his heels merrily all the time against the
boards. His mirth, however, received an unpleasant check; for Abraham,
greatly incensed by his previous conduct, caught him by the legs, and
pushed him with such violence into the hole that the point of the
spike, which he had placed in his pocket, found its way through his
clothes to the flesh, inflicting a slight, but painful wound. Jack, who
had something of the Spartan in his composition, endured his martyrdom
without flinching; and carried his stoical indifference so far, as even
to make a mocking grimace in Sharples's face, while that amiable
functionary thrust Thames into the recess beside him.

"How go you like your quarters, sauce-box?" asked Sharples, in a jeering
tone.

"Better than your company, Saint Giles," replied Sheppard; "so, shut the
door, and make yourself scarce."

"That boy'll never rest till he finds his vay to Bridewell," observed
Sharples.

"Or the street," returned Jack: "mind my words, the prison's not built
that can keep me."

"We'll see that, young hempseed," replied Sharples, shutting the hatch
furiously in his face, and locking it. "If you get out o' that cage,
I'll forgive you. Now, come along, gem'men, and I'll show you some
precious sport."

The two janizaries followed him as fa