That's how I finally got wind of it. "It is open," replied the lady, rushing towards it, and springing through the outlet. He took into his soul some of the father's misery, some of the daughter's, to mingle with his own. 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. "And so you've given up all hope of escaping, eh, Jack?" remarked Hogarth. There were no doors in the bungalow; instead, there were curtains of strung bead and bamboo, always tinkling mysteriously.
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