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You have heard of a place called Hell-house Yard; well, he lives there; and his name is Simon." "And does he keep up any communication with his brother, think you?" said Gerard. "Nay, I know no more; at least at present," said their host. "The secretary asked me about a person absent without leave for twenty years and who was said to have no relations, I found you one and a very near one.
"I'm at home," said Mr Nixon, "but 'tis the first time I ever heard Hell-house Yard called Wodgate." "It's called so in joggraphy," said Juggins. "But you hay'nt going to Hell-house Yard this time of night!" said Mr Nixon. "I'd as soon think of going down the pit with the windlass turned by lushy Bob." "Tayn't a journey for Christians," said Juggins.
Here they sought an interview with the landlord, and from him got information of Hatton's brother. "You have heard of a place called Hell-house Yard?" said the publican. "Well, he lives there, and his name is Simon, and that's all I know about him." III. The Gulf Impassable
Although a delegate to the Chartist Convention, Stephen had not forgotten the claims of Gerard to landed estate, and had pursued his inquiries as to the whereabouts of Hatton with some success. First Stephen had journeyed to Woodgate, commonly known as Hell-house Yard, a wild and savage place, the abode of a lawless race of men who fashioned locks and instruments of iron.
"You're the man, Master Nixon, to choose for churchwarden," replied the reproved miner with a glance of admiration. "What is Diggs doing?" said Master Nixon in a solemn tone. "A-dropping wages and a-raising tommy like fun," said Master Waghorn. "There is a great stir in Hell-house yard," said a miner who entered the tap room at this moment, much excited.
Morley slightly advanced, he caught the Liberator's eye, who scrutinized him with extreme earnestness, and then jumping from the table shouted; "Why this is the muff that called on me in Hell-house Yard three years ago." "I had that honour," said Morley quietly.
Why not others as well so that they could work in unison?" "Don't you understand yet? You are not sane! This planet is a hell-house of disordered personalities, a place of horror, a plague-spot. Suppose I had retained Timmy as my voice and planned on releasing the inhibited potential of many people. I would have to start with one man and that one man would at once become my master!
And last Saturday I went out of the hell-house where I have been pent so long, and I covered my face with my hands and fled away home away to the little corner that is mine. There I flung myself down and sobbed like a child. It was relief it was joy it was fear! It was everything! The book! The book! Then I got up and the world seemed to go behind me, and I was drunk.
"I would not stickle about hours, but the money and the drink are very just." "If Hell-house yard is astir," said Waghorn, "there will be a good deal to be seen yet." "It's grave," said Master Nixon. "What think you of a deputation there? It might come to good." "I should like to hear the top-sawyer from London," said Juggins.
Soon after this there were symptoms of empty mugs and exhausted pipes, and the party began to stir. The stranger addressing Nixon, enquired of him what was their present distance from Wodgate. "Wodgate!" exclaimed Mr Nixon with an unconscious air. "The gentleman means Hell-house Yard," said one of his companions.
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