laws alone swamp our small staff. “She has nothing to be afraid of,” he continued. “Not possible. I seek chaos, but not out of choice. As sure as you're sitting there, Mr. 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. CHAPTER XII.
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