They're a pack of thieves at the tavern," he lowered his voice.

"I know 'em, for they've plucked me!" To make sure of his prey, he rested a fat hand on the boy's shoulder and drew him gently but firmly into the shanty.

As they crossed the threshold he kicked the door shut, then with flint and steel he made a light, and presently a candle was sputtering in his hands.

He fitted it into the neck of a tall bottle, and as the light flared up the boy glanced about him.
The interior was mean enough, with its rough walls, dirt floor and black, cavernous fireplace.

A rude clapboard table did duty as a desk, a fact made plain by a horn ink-well, a notary's seal, and a rack with a half-dozen quill pens.