“There’s some railway here, I s’pose?
“Yes,” returned his companion, “the Blackwall. We shall get under it presently.”
By the light of a lamp he saw a smile pass over her features.
A strange feeling of doubt and mistrust took possession of him.
“Why was he brought hither? It seemed most singular.”
They were soon beneath the arch of the railway, when, instead of passing through it, Miss Stanbridge turned and pointed to the right.
Alf shuddered. They were standing at the mouth of a narrow street, as black and repulsive as a cavern.
It ran under the railway for some distance, the archway being propped up by iron posts.
Thus this street was always dark—it was a tomb; its inhabitants were buried alive, the only sun was the hot blaze of the engines which passed over their heads.
“What a queer street for people to live in!” exclaimed Alf. “I didn’t know there was such a street.”