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Though encumbered by his irons, his step was firm, and his demeanour dignified. On this side a flight of wooden steps, protected by a hand-rail, led to a door opening upon the summit of the prison. To his consternation, she was holding an unwieldy, ugly-looking pistol, all wood and tarnished steel, with both hands about the butt. 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. ‘C’est ridicule. The man who sat behind a pigeon-hole, and regulated the comings and goings, was for a moment absent.
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