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“How much?” asked Amber, keeping an eye on the cat which now sat patiently at her feet, wide-eyed and flicking just the tip of his tail. If she could sell her wedding-ring she would have money enough to buy very good quarters—and she was still convinced that she would be out within a day or two.

“Two shillings six to get out of here. Six shillings for easement. Two shillings six a week for a bed. Two shillings a week for sheets. Six shillings six to the turnkey. Ten shillings six to the steward of the ward for coal and candles. That’s all for now. I’ll have one pound ten from each of you ladies.” As they all looked at her and no one either moved or spoke she said briskly, “Come, now. I’m a woman of affairs. There’s others here too, y’know.”

Moll now lifted her skirt and from a pocket in her petticoat produced the required sum. “ ’Sblood, it seems I only steal enough to support myself in prison.”

Amber looked around, waiting for one of the others to speak, but they did not and so she pulled the wedding-ring from her finger and extended it toward Mrs. Cleggat. “I haven’t got any money. How much will you give me for this?”

Mrs. Cleggat took it, held it to the candle and said, “Three pound.”

“Three pound! But I paid twelve for it!”

“Values are different here.” She unbuttoned the wallet, counted out several shillings, handed them to Amber and dropped the wedding-ring into the leather pouch. “Is that all?”

“Yes,” said Amber. She did not intend to part with the string of pearls Bruce had given her not long before he sailed.

Mrs. Cleggat looked at her sharply. “You’d better give me whatever else you’ve got right now. If you don’t I promise you it’ll be stolen before you’ve been here two hours.”

Amber hesitated a moment longer and then, with a heavy sigh, she unfastened the clasp and drew the strand out of her cloak. Mrs. Cleggat gave her six pounds for them and promptly turned her attention to the other women. The Quakeress stood up and faced her squarely, but as she spoke her voice was soft and meek.

“I have no money, friend. Do with me as thou wilt.”

“You’d better send out for some, Mrs. Or you go into the Common side which, though I say it myself, isn’t fit for a baboon.”

“No matter. I can get used to it.”

Mrs. Cleggat shrugged and her voice was contemptuously indifferent. “You fanatics.” (A fanatic, in the common understanding, was anyone who belonged to neither the Catholic nor the Anglican Church.) “Well enough then, Mrs. Give me your cloak for the entrance fee and your shoes for easement.”

Out of doors it was almost warm for the winter had been a strange one, but in there it was chill and damp. Nevertheless the girl untied her cloak and took it off. Amber, looking from her to Mrs. Cleggat with growing indignation, now suddenly made up her mind.

“Here! Keep it on! I’ll pay for you! You’ll fall sick without it!”

Moll glanced at her scornfully. “Don’t be a fool! You’ve little enough for yourself!”

But the Quakeress gave her a gentle smile. “Thank thee, friend. Thou art kind—but I want nothing. If I fall sick, it is the will of God.”

Amber regarded her dubiously, then extended the coins toward Mrs. Cleggat. “Take it for her anyway.”

“The girl will be a damned nuisance to me if she’s made comfortable. Keep the money for yourself. It’ll go quick enough.” She turned to the housewife, who admitted that she had not so much as a farthing. Amber looked at Moll to see if she would not offer to share the woman’s expenses with her, but Moll was glancing idly about the room and whistling beneath her breath.

“Well, then—I’ll pay for her.”

This time the offer was accepted and the woman thanked her profusely, promising to repay her as soon as she was able—which would apparently be never if she was to be kept in prison until her debt was cleared. And then a man came in to put on the lighter shackles. They consisted of bracelets which fitted loosely about the wrists and ankles with long chains stretching between, and though they were awkward and clanked dismally they did not seem to be otherwise uncomfortable.

“Take the fanatic to the Common Felon’s side,” said Mrs. Cleggat to the man when he had done. “Come with me, ladies.” They trooped out of the room after her, first Moll, then Amber holding the bird-cage on her shoulder, and then the housewife.

Mounting a dark narrow stairway they reached a big room where the door stood open; above it was nailed a skull-and-crossbones. Mrs. Cleggat went in first with her candle and as they followed they could see two large flat beds, covered with flock mattresses and some grey rumpled bedding, a table, scarred stools and chairs, and a cold fireplace above and beside which hung some blackened kettles and pans and a few pewter mugs and dishes. Certainly there was nothing in this barren dirty room to suggest the luxurious quarters Mrs. Cleggat had painted.

“This,” she said, “is the Lady Debtors’ Ward.”