My father frowned. "And yet this man, Mr. Knox, is an anointed
king."

"Of Corsica!" Mr. Knox shrugged his shoulders. "You may take my
word for it, he's an anointed actor."

"One can visit him, I suppose?"

"At the most the turnkey will expect five shillings. Oh dear me yes!
For a crowned head he's accessible."

My father took me by the arm. "Come along, then, child. And you,
Gervase, get your business through with Mr. Knox and follow us, if
you can, in half an hour. You"--he turned to Billy Priske--"had best
come with us. 'Tis possible I may need you all for witnesses."

He walked me out and downstairs and through the lodge gateway; and so
under Temple Bar again and down Fleet Street through the throng; till
near the foot of it, turning up a side street out of the noise, we
found ourselves in face of a gateway which could only belong to a
prison. The gate itself stood open, but the passage led to an
iron-barred door, and in the passage--which was cool but
indescribably noisome--a couple of children were playing marbles,
with half a dozen turnkeys looking on and (I believe) betting on the
game.

My father sniffed the air in the passage and turned to me.

"Gaol-fever," he announced. "Please God, child, we won't be in it