Since Mary predeceased Jarvis, Nicholas could scarcely argue himself to be my brother’s next of kin. Casting a hasty glance at the old and ruinous prison belonging to the liberty of the Bishop of Winchester (whose palace formerly adjoined the river), called the Clink, which gave its name to the street, along which he walked: and noticing, with some uneasiness, the melancholy manner in which the wind whistled through its barred casements, the carpenter followed his companion down an opening to the right, and presently arrived at the water-side. He was no Hoddy, but a tremendous man, with hairy arms and bearded face and drink-shattered intellect. “That’s all very well when one isn’t the material experimented upon,” Ann Veronica had remarked. Save us!" he cried, as his glance accidentally alighted on the drawing, which Winifred had dropped in her agitation.
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