He is in Newgate. He saw the tragedy on the boy's face; but he was merciless. Afraid, no doubt, he thought grimly, that her other visitor would leave. His clothes were smartly pressed, his linen white, his jaws cleanly shaven; but the day would come when he would grow indifferent to bodily cleanliness. Further on, there were impressions of bloody footsteps along the floor. Above was a spacious hall, connected with it by a flight of stone steps, at the further end of which stood an immense grated door, called in the slang of the place "The Jigger," through the bars of which the felons in the upper wards were allowed to converse with their friends, or if they wished to enter the room, or join the revellers below, they were at liberty to do so, on payment of a small fine. You could walk the city streets and with every blink you could take in a new sight of beauty so great that your heart would weep for it. Be silent, I say, if you value his safety. .
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