John laughed even harder, his eyes misting over. Wood was unable to discover the figure of the widow, but he recognised her dry, hacking cough, and was about to call her down, if she could not find the key, as he imagined must be the case, when a loud noise was heard, as though a chest, or some weighty substance, had fallen upon the floor. Just as they reached the end of the passage, they heard the voices of Jonathan and the Jew in Thames's late place of confinement. “Ye Gods!” she said at last. “Poor little Miniver! What can she be but what she is?. Because of the Dance. Hope you ate light before you got here. Coming from the gloom of the passage, even the corridors seemed sufficiently illuminated for them to see their way. A pretty piece.
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