The present divinity of the cellar was a comely middle-aged dame, almost as stout, and quite as shrill-voiced, as the Billingsgate fish-wives above-mentioned, Mrs. . With this view, Jack was carried—for he was no longer able to move without assistance— to a ward called the Castle, situated over the gateway on the western side, in what was considered the strongest part of the jail. ‘Peste,’ she wailed, as Emile dropped to the floor, ducking down. In the distance a bell clanged, and chattering broke out in the doorway as several nuns came crowding in. Heedless, however, of the consequences, he pursued his task.
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