his way.

He threaded the crowd, passed out at the farther door, and I, guessing
his intention, was in waiting for his steps in the street.

"Now home at last, thank Heaven!" thought I. Mistaken still! My uncle
went first towards that popular haunt which I have since discovered is
called "the Shades;" but he soon re-emerged, and finally he knocked at
the door of a private house in one of the streets out of St. James's.
It was opened jealously, and closed as he entered, leaving me without.
What could this house be? As I stood and watched, some other men
approached: again the low single knock, again the jealous opening and
the stealthy entrance.

A policeman passed and re-passed me. "Don't be tempted, young man,"
said he, looking hard at me: "take my advice, and go home."

"What is that house, then?" said I, with a sort of shudder at this
ominous warning.

"Oh! you know."

"Not I. I am new to London."

"It is a hell," said the policeman, satisfied, by my frank manner, that
I spoke the truth.

"God bless me,--a what? I could not have heard you rightly!"

"A hell,--a gambling-house!"