"Me, and Jones, and Jenkins, broke into No.--, in the Quadrant, as we heard a pistol--or else we should ha' known ourselves better; and this young feller is all we caught. Jones and Jenkins is staying in the house along with the dead body of the man as killed his self." The inspector indulged in a good long stare at Markham; and, when his curiosity was completely gratified, he said, "Now, Crisp, we'll enter that charge, if you please." The policeman standing at the desk turned to the proper leaf in the large book before him, and then took down the deposition of the officer who had apprehended Markham. When this was done, the inspector proceeded, in a very pompous and magisterial manner, to question the prisoner. "What is your name, young man?" "Richard Markham." "Oh! Richard Markham. Put that down, Crisp. Where do you live?" "At Markham Place, near Holloway." "Put that down, Crisp. Now, do you want to let any of your friends know that you are in trouble?" "First tell me of what I am accused, and why I am detained." "You are accused of being in an unlawful house for an unlawful purpose--namely, gambling; and a suicide has been committed there, they say. You will be wanted afore the coroner as well as the magistrate." "Can I be released until to-morrow by giving security for my appearance?" "No--I can't part with you. It is said that it is suicide--and I believe it: still it might be murder. But you seem a respectable young gentleman, and so you sha'nt be locked up in a cell all night. You may sit here by the fire, if you'll be quiet." "I am at least obliged to you for this courtesy. But can you give me any idea of the extent of the penalty to which I am liable? I did not gamble myself--I merely accompanied----" "You need'nt criminate anybody, you know," interrupted the Inspector. "The Magistrate will fine you a few pounds, and that will be all." "Then I should prefer not to acquaint my friends with my position," said Markham, "since I can release myself from my present difficulty without their assistance." Reassured by this conviction, though still strangely excited by the appalling scene which he had witnessed, Richard seated himself by the fire, and soon fell into conversation with the policemen. These men could talk of nothing but themselves or their pursuits: they appeared to live in a world of policeism; all their ideas were circumscribed to station-houses, magistrates' offices, prisons, and criminal courts of justice. Their discourse was moreover garnished with the slang terms of thieves; they could not utter a sentence without interpolating a swell-mob phrase or a Newgate jest. They seemed to be so familiar with crime (though not criminal themselves) that they could not devote a moment to the contemplation of virtue: they only conversed about persons who were "in trouble," but never condescended to lavish a thought to those who were out of it. "Crankey Jem has done it brown at last, has'nt he?" said Crisp.