Sheppard heaved a deep sigh, and opened her eyes, which now looked larger, blacker, and more melancholy than ever. While the cloth was laid, the host and Thames descended to the cellar, whence they returned, laden with a number of flasks of the same form, and apparently destined to the same use as those depicted in Hogarth's delectable print—the Modern Midnight Conversation. I was the black sheep, I was hurried out of the way. John eased off. Come with me to the Condemned Hold directly, and, if I find my fears confirmed, I'll—" He was here interrupted by the sudden entrance of the black, who rushed precipitately into the room, letting fall the heavy bunch of keys in his fright.
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