"At a place we call the Dark House at Queenhithe," answered Jonathan, "a sort of under-ground tavern or night-cellar, close to the river-side, and frequented by the crew of the Dutch skipper, to whose care he's to be committed. But never would any so dishonour himself as to hand a fellow rogue over to the authorities. We're all safe!" "Don't lose a moment then," cried Jack, forcing himself into the aperture, while the Amazon, assisted by Bess, pulled him through it. The slack cloth of her habit caught on a curlicue in the carved back of the pew in front, pulling her suddenly about. She herself had cut the slender tie that had bound them.
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