Then a hansom drove up, and his heart gave a great leap. The prison gates were besieged like the entrance of a booth at a fair; and the Condemned Hold where he was confined, and to which visitors were admitted at the moderate rate of a guinea a-head, had quite the appearance of a showroom. Why ain’t you gorn? Seems to me I had ought to arrest you. Jack instandly extinguished the light, and called to his comrade to come after him. Here I am as an alternative either to nasty work—or going home. In the genuinely dissipated face there was always a suggestion of slyness in ambush, peeping out of the wrinkles around the eyes and the lips. From the sounds of it, he was better off dead.
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