Sir John filled his glass with trembling hand. “Yes, John. . 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. She told you —the truth. . . So long as a man behaves himself, I can't refuse him liquor. . But I was sorry for poor Jack—as I am still, and hoped he would mend. He would know the truth then once and for all. As she drew off her skirt she felt something in the pocket, and remembered the letter which the commissionaire at the Carlton had given her.
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