Spurling, formerly, it may be remembered, the hostess of the Dark House at Queenhithe,—whence wine, ale, and brandy of inferior quality were dispensed, in false measures, and at high prices, throughout the prison, which in noise and debauchery rivalled, if it did not surpass, the lowest tavern. “Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure about that. I’M shaken. To-night she had a curious feeling that she stood upon the threshold of some change. They will find me dead, yes. I’ll need you to go back to the barracks and fetch more men up to town.
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