But not finding it, he had again recourse to the bludgeon, and began beating the hand fixed on the upper rail, until, by smashing the fingers, he forced it to relinquish its hold. They walked back to 118 hand in hand. Something happened down there, and probably I'll never know what. Your career at the bar had given you a command of language, also a self-control not vouchsafed to us ordinary mortals. He was a comforting, humorous old ruffian; but there were few men in the Orient more deeply read in psychology and physiognomy. "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.
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