"What is Rats' Castle?" asked Markham, as he walked by the officer's side down a wretched alley, almost as dark as pitch, and over the broken pavement of which he stumbled at every step.
"The night-house where all kind of low people meet to sup and lodge," was the reply. "But here we are—and you'll see all about it in an instant."
They had stopped at the door of a house with an area protected by thick wooden palings. All the upper part of the dwelling appeared to be involved in total darkness: but lights streamed through the chinks of the rude shutters of the area-windows; and from the same direction emanated boisterous merriment, coarse laughter, and wild hurrahs.
"You knock at the door, sir, if you please," said the policeman, "while I stand aside. I'll slip in after you; for if they twig my coat, and Tidkins really happens to be there, they'd give him the office to bolt before we could get in."
"Well thought of," returned Markham. "But upon what plea am I to claim admittance?"
"As a stranger, impelled by curiosity. You carry the silver key in your pocket."
The policeman withdrew a few paces; and our hero knocked boldly at the door.
A gruff voice challenged the visitor from the area.
"Who's here?"
"No one that will do you any harm," replied Richard. "I am anxious to witness the interior of this establishment; and here is half-a-crown for you if you can gratify my curiosity."