"Where is he?" he cried. On that first occasion, the delay in locating the entrance to the secret passage meant that she had to wait until morning to make her search. Sheppard's habitation terminated a row of old ruinous buildings, called Wheeler's Rents; a dirty thoroughfare, part street, and part lane, running from Mint Street, through a variety of turnings, and along the brink of a deep kennel, skirted by a number of petty and neglected gardens in the direction of Saint George's Fields. Several men and women were piled there like wood, dead, horribly gored. I walked London till the soles of my shoes were worn through, and my toes were blistered. "Come out!" roared Quilt, looking into the aperture. “I’m damned if I’ll believe it,” he muttered to himself savagely.
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