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. But this was but a momentary gleam of personal application, and at this time she followed it up no further. We were to ransom you, then we would fake your death, play as if the kidnappers had executed you. Mind, when we were all growed up, it were different. My mother really wants to meet you.
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