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. I wouldn't touch the stuff for all the pearls in India. But was it Faith? That is what she was this day going to find out. Selling out of the Army to take up his inheritance had spelled boredom to Gerald Alderley. For that matter, my future be damned.
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