"That's English, any how," said the voice, softening in its tone. "Stop a minute."
Markham heard a door close in the area below; and in a few moments the bolts were drawn back inside the one at which he was standing.
"Now then, my ben-cull—in with you," said a man, as he opened the front door, and held a candle high up above his head at the same time.
Markham stepped into a narrow passage, and placed his foot against the door in such a way as to keep it open. But the precaution was unnecessary, for the policeman had glided in almost simultaneously with himself.
"Now, no noise, old feller," said the constable, in a hasty whisper to the man who had opened the door: "our business isn't with any of your set."
"Wery good," returned the porter of Rats' Castle: "you know best—it isn't for me to say nothink."
"Go first, sir," whispered the officer to Markham. "You seem to know _him_ better than me, for I never saw him but once—and then only for a minute or two."
"Straight on—and then down stairs. You keep behind us, old feller," added the policeman, turning to the porter.
Markham descended a flight of narrow and precipitate steps, and at the bottom found himself in a large room formed of two kitchens thrown into one.
Two long tables running parallel to each other the entire length of the place, were laid out for supper,—the preparations consisting of a number of greasy napkins spread upon either board, and decorated with knives and forks all chained to the tables. Iron plates to eat off, galley-pots and chipped tea-cups filled with salt, three or four pepper-boxes, and two small stone jars containing mustard, completed the preparations for the evening meal.
The room was lighted by means of a number of candles disposed in tin shades around the walls; and as no one gave himself the trouble to snuff them, the wicks were long, and infested with what housewives denominate "thieves," while the tallow streamed down in large flakes, dripping on the floor, the seats, or the backs of the guests.
Crowded together at the two tables, and anxiously watching the proceedings of an old blear-eyed woman, who was occupied at an immense fire at the farther end of the room, were about thirty or forty persons, male and female. And never did Markham's eyes glance upon a more extraordinary—a more loathsome—a more revolting spectacle than that assemblage of rags, filth, disease, deformity, and ugliness.