While the cloth was laid, the host and Thames descended to the cellar, whence they returned, laden with a number of flasks of the same form, and apparently destined to the same use as those depicted in Hogarth's delectable print—the Modern Midnight Conversation. Hearing the noise of the scuffle, the tapstress, fancying it was Jack making an effort to escape, in spite of the remonstrances of the executioner, threw open the wicket. And with his clenched hand he struck him a violent blow in the face. “Is it your maid?” he asked. "Hear! hear!" vociferated Quilt. Blueskin therefore had nothing to stop him. "I opened the padlock with this crooked nail, which I found in the floor. The soi-disant Valade held the centre of the room now, only an uncovered but closed card-table, its surface dusty, between him and the suite at the fireplace.
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