Above was a spacious hall, connected with it by a flight of stone steps, at the further end of which stood an immense grated door, called in the slang of the place "The Jigger," through the bars of which the felons in the upper wards were allowed to converse with their friends, or if they wished to enter the room, or join the revellers below, they were at liberty to do so, on payment of a small fine. What gave the puzzling twist to an ordinary situation was her manner: she was guileless. “Reuben, come here. In a very definite sense we are in the wrong —hopelessly in the wrong. Neither did his interest,—which was by no means inconsiderable,—nor his general popularity, procure him the preferment he desired.
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