256 Lucy chose her words carefully. “What a gloomy person you are!” she murmured. 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. Little did I imagine at the time that it was my own father to whom he referred. “What was that?” she asked sharply. ‘The secret passage!’ It did not take long to find the mechanism of the candlesconce that opened the door.
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