On the right, stood a bulky figure, with a broken rattle hanging out of his great-coat pocket, who held up a lantern to his battered countenance to prove to the spectators that both his orbs of vision were darkened: on the left, a meagre constable had divested himself of his shirt, to bind up with greater convenience a gaping cut in the arm. "These writer chaps are queer birds. Beyond the hatch, an angle, formed by a projection in the wall of some three or four feet, served to hide a door conducting to the interior of the prison. A good woman’s mind has angels with flaming swords at the portals to keep out fallen thoughts. . "Why didn't you come out when I called you, you young dog?" cried Quilt in a savage tone.
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