Light the lantern. Above the housetops it was different. Chapter XXVIII
THE HISSING OF “ALCIDE”
There was a strange and ominous murmur of voices, a shuffling of feet in the
gallery, a silence, which was like the silence before a storm. The only departure which he made from the
fashion of the period, was in respect to the peruke—an article he could never be
induced to wear. Her defence ceased rapidly to be in any
sense ladylike, and became vigorous and effective; a strand of black hair that had
escaped its hairpins came athwart Ramage’s eyes, and then the knuckles of a
small but very hardly clinched fist had thrust itself with extreme effectiveness
and painfulness under his jawbone and ear. While this took place, while Quilt thundered at the inner door, and Jack drew
back the bolts of the outer, a deep, manly voice was heard chanting—as if in
contempt of the general uproar—the following strain:—
With pipe and punch upon the board,
And smiling nymphs around us;
No tavern could more mirth afford
Than old Saint Giles's round-house!
The round-house! the round-house!
The jolly—jolly round-house!
"The jolly, jolly round-house!" chorussed Sheppard, as the last bar yielded to his
efforts. It was locked. Michelle answered the door. “How so?”
“I should have shared these things with you earlier, my
sweet heart. I naturally want to do it up in proper style.
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