David Courtlaw. ‘To the contrary, I will have you to know something. "On that night,—in this room,—in your presence, Blueskin,— in yours Mr. Unlocking several doors, he came to a dark vault, that would have rivalled the gloomiest cell in Newgate, into which he thrust Thames, and fastened the door. And, if it had not been for a taste for plotting, which was continually getting him into scrapes, he might have been accounted a respectable member of society. But it is no longer necessary. It was a queer little bed-sitting-room almost in the roof, with a partition right across it.
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