In olden days it boasted a chapel, dedicated to Saint Thomas; beneath which there was a crypt curiously constructed amid the arches, where "was sepultured Peter the Chaplain of Colechurch, who began the Stone Bridge at London:" and it still boasted an edifice (though now in rather a tumbledown condition) which had once vied with a palace,—we mean Nonesuch House. She had always had a wonderful ear for phrasing, even back in the days of the viol. She calmed herself, breathing deeply. It is nothing at all for you to worry about. Without the inclosure were reared several lofty gibbets, with their ghastly burthens. If Thames is murdered, you are his assassin. His countenance was almost as white and rigid as that of the corpse by his side. To them all I am nothing. To reach the Sha-mien—and particularly the Hotel Victoria—one crossed a narrow canal, always choked with rocking sampans over and about which swarmed yellow men and women and children in varied shades of faded blue cotton.
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