"What ails you, lass?" said he very sternly.
"La, Mr. Vincott," she gulped out between bubbles of laughter, "I think you have but few honest women among your clients."
Mr. Vincott rebuked her at some length for her sauciness, and would have prolonged his lecture yet further, but that my impatience mastered me and I haled him from the room. The girl let us out by a small door which gave on to an alley at the back of the house. The night was pitch-dark, and the streets deserted; not even a lamp swung from a porch.
"Stay here for a moment," whispered Vincott. "I will move ahead and reconnoitre."
His feet echoed on the cobbles with a strange lonely sound. In a minute or so a low whistle reached my ears, and I followed him.
"All's clear," he said. "I little thought the time would ever come when I should bless his late Majesty King Charles for forbidding the citizens of Bristol to light their streets."
We stepped quickly forward, threading the quiet roads as noiselessly as we could, until Vincott stopped before a large building. Lights streamed from the windows, piercing the mirk of the night with brownish rays, and a dull muffled clamour rang through the gateway.
"The Bridewell," whispered Vincott. "Keep your face well shrouded, and for God's sake hide your feet!"
He drew a long breath. I did the same, and we crossed the road and passed beneath the arch.