He lifted up the obstinate little fool, collared him, and dragged him along towards the station-house. As he did so a crowd of persons followed and abused him. Another constable came up, and the prisoner was locked up. In the morning he was taken before the magistrate at Marlborough-street, and fined. This little incident is one of the many scenes enacted by brainless fellows with more money than wits. It is an actual fact, and was reported in the papers of the period, in addition to which it came under the writer’s own observation. “There are a good many fools in the world, and that fellow is one of them,” said Kempshead; “but I’ve another little place I want you to visit. Come this way.” The speaker turned down Jermyn-street. He was followed by Peace. The two arrived in front of a house on the left side of the street in question, which to all appearance was a coffee-shop. It was a great unobtrusive-looking establishment, with ground-glass windows in its front, on which were inscribed the words “Coffee Room.” “This little drum is worth seeing,” said Kempshead. “No one but the initiated would dream that such a place existed.” The two went down a narrow passage, and reached a pair of small folding doors. Peace’s companion opened one of them, and said to a man inside, “All right, Sam.” The man touched his hat, and they then passed in. To all appearance it was a coffee-shop. There were compartments, seats, and side tables, such as are seen in ordinary houses of that description; but these were filled with magnificently attired women and aristocratic looking gentlemen, who were quiet, well-behaved, and reserved in their manner. It was said by Peace’s chaperon that more than one titled person was present. At the end of the room was the bar, in which was seated a mahogany-faced gentleman, with an aquiline nose, who was evidently an Israelite. He came forward from this inner penetralia, and shook Kempshead warmly by the hand. He was introduced by that gentleman to Mr. Charles Peace. “What shall we have?” said Kempshead. “A cup of green tea?” “Yes, if you like.” “Two cups of green tea, Isaacson, if you please.” These were brought by a waiter and paid for by Kempshead. Peace discovered that the so-called “green tea” was cold brandy and water, and he was informed by his friend that black tea, with sugar, was warm brandy and water, but in both cases the grog was brought in an elegantly-shaped cup and saucer. Other refreshments were served in this delectable establishment, which was kept open, in defiance of the law, during the greater portion of the night. It was a quiet snug retreat for ladies and gentlemen who did not want to be seen in places of more public resort, such as the Argyll and the Holborn. The writer of this work was taken there from his club some years ago, between one and two on Sunday morning, by one of the most renowned of London theatrical managers, in company with an actor of celebrity.