The windows were grated, the doors barred; each room had the name as well as the appearance of a cell; and the very porter who stood at the gate, habited like a jailer, with his huge bunch of keys at his girdle, his forbidding countenance and surly demeanour seemed to be borrowed from Newgate. It’s just upon my lunch-time. "Ah! traitor!" cried Jack, pulling the trigger of his pistol. He went to the door. "The youth whom you delivered to Van Galgebrok,—Thames Darrell, is returned. Fine woman, Lady Trafford—a little on the wane though.
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