Читать книгу Charles Peace, or The Adventures of a Notorious Burglar онлайн

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Before going upstairs he went into the kitchen of the lodging-house.

This was a long quaint room, its walls covered with disgusting figures; the floor was covered with dirt, and a wooden seat projected from the wall all round the room.

In front of this was ranged a series of tables on which lolled men and boys.

A number of inmates were grouped round the fire, some kneeling, washing herrings—​of which the place smelt strongly—​others without shirts seated on the ground, and others drying the ends of cigars they had picked up in the streets. As for the assembly, it was of the most heterogeneous description.

Some were, like Alf, in dirty smock frocks; others in old red plush waistcoats, with long sleeves. One was dressed in an old shooting jacket, with large wooden buttons; a second in a blue flannel sailor’s shirt; and a third, a mere boy, wore a long camlet cloak reaching to his heels, and both the ends of the sleeves hanging over his hands.

No. 19.

“DON’T MAKE ANY ROW,” SAID WRENCH; “YOU ARE MY PRISONER NOW.”