"Something's wrong. She winked at him as he shut the door. Cut it as short as you can. "Can you pull him through?" was the anxious question. But, no. 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.
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