"Where?" "That can wait," she answered. Very gently indeed, Alderley grasped the handle of the door and stealthily turned it. She loved to walk through the gardens, graced with columns that loomed overhead. Then she called a hansom and drove home. She let out a delighted laugh. Spurling, formerly, it may be remembered, the hostess of the Dark House at Queenhithe,—whence wine, ale, and brandy of inferior quality were dispensed, in false measures, and at high prices, throughout the prison, which in noise and debauchery rivalled, if it did not surpass, the lowest tavern.
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