This individual, armed with a black liquor flask, two revolvers, a blood-thirsty-looking dirk, a pair of brass knuckles, and a quantity of plug tobacco, took his way through the streets, avoiding the more popular and respectable thoroughfares, and gradually approaching that portion of the city almost entirely given over to the worst of the bad,--a network of short streets and narrow alleys, as intricate as the maze, and as dangerous to the unwary as an African jungle. But the man who now entered these dismal streets walked with the manner of one familiar with their sights and sounds. Moving along with an air of stolid indifference to what was before and about him, he arrived at a rickety building, somewhat larger than those surrounding it, the entrance to which was reached by going down, instead of up, a flight of stone steps. This entrance was feebly illuminated by a lantern hung against the doorway, and by a few stray gleams of light that shone out from the rents in the ragged curtains. Pushing open the door, our visitor found himself in a large room with sanded floor, a counter or bar, and five or six tables, about which a number of men were lounging,--some at cards, some drinking, and some conversing in the queer jargon called thieves' slang, and which is as Greek to the unenlightened. The buzz of conversation almost ceased as the door opened, but was immediately resumed when the new comer came forward toward the light. "Is that you, Cull?" called the man behind the bar. "You've been keepin' scarce of late." The man addressed as "Cull" laughed discordantly. "I've been visitin' in the country," he returned, with a knowing wink. "It's good for my health this time o' year. How's business? You've got the hull deck on hand, I should say." "You better say! Things is boomin'; nearly all of the old uns are in." "Well, spread out the drinks, Pap, I'm tolerably flush. Boys, come up, and if I don't know any of ye we'll be interduced." Almost instantly a dozen men were flocking about the bar, some eager to grasp the hand of the liberal last arrival, and others paying their undivided attention to the bar keeper's cheerful command: "Nominate yer dose, gentlemen." While the party, glasses in hand, were putting themselves _en rapport_, the door again opened, and now the hush that fell upon the assembled "gentlemen" was deeper and more lasting. Evidently, the person who entered was a stranger to all in the Thieves' Tavern, for such the building was. He was a young man, with a countenance half fierce, half desperate, wholly depraved. He was haggard, dirty, and ragged, having the look and the gait of a man who has travelled far and is footsore and weary. As he approached the group about the bar it was also evident that he was half intoxicated. "Good evenin', sirs," he said with surly indifference. Then to the man behind the bar: "Mix us a cocktail, old Top, and strong."