voice said,
"Good-night, sir."

"Was that the man you were speaking of?" asked Sir Richard, quickly.

"Oh no, sir," replied Seaward with a laugh; "that's what he was once
like, indeed, but not what he is like now. His voice is no longer
gruff. Take care of the step, gentlemen, as you pass here; so, now we
will go into this lodging. It is one of the common lodging-houses of
London, which are regulated by law and under the supervision of the
police. Each man pays fourpence a night here, for which he is entitled
to a bed and the use of the kitchen and its fire to warm himself and
cook his food. If he goes to the same lodging every night for a week he
becomes entitled to a free night on Sundays."

The room into which they now entered was a long low chamber, which
evidently traversed the whole width of the building, for it turned at a
right angle at the inner end, and extended along the back to some
extent. It was divided along one side into boxes or squares, after the
fashion of some eating-houses, with a small table in the centre of each
box, but, the partitions being little higher than those of a church-pew,
the view of the whole room was unobstructed. At the inner angle of the
room blazed a coal-fire so large that a sheep might have been easily
roasted whole at it. Gas jets, fixed along the walls at intervals, gave
a sufficient light to the place.

This was the kitchen of the lodging-house, and formed the sitting-room
of the place; and here was assembled perhaps the most degraded and
miserable set of men that the world can produce. They were not all of
one class, by any means; nor were they all criminal, though certainly
many of them were. The place was the last refuge of the destitute; the
social sink into which all that is improvident, foolish, reckless,
thriftless, or criminal finally descends.

Sir Richard and Welland had put on their oldest great-coats and
shabbiest wideawakes; they had also put off their gloves and rings and
breastpins in order to attract as little attention as possible, but
nothing that they could have done could have reduced their habiliments
to anything like the garments of the poor creatures with whom they now
mingled. If they had worn the same garments for months or years without
washing them, and had often slept in them out of doors in dirty places,
they might perhaps have brought them to the same level, but not
otherwise.

Some of the people, however, were noisy enough. Ma