"Why not?" "I'll tell you," cried a deep voice from the back of the bed. There was a pint of champagne and a quart of mineral water (both taboo) at his elbow. The old man was conducted to Jack's cell by the turnkey, who remained near him during their interview. The prison was two stories high, with a flat roof surmounted by a gilt vane fashioned like a key; and, possessing considerable internal accommodation, it had, in its day, lodged some thousands of disorderly personages. “When it comes there is no mistaking it. None at all.
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