Sir John looked about him, and somehow the laugh died away. The windows were grated, the doors barred; each room had the name as well as the appearance of a cell; and the very porter who stood at the gate, habited like a jailer, with his huge bunch of keys at his girdle, his forbidding countenance and surly demeanour seemed to be borrowed from Newgate. ‘Move, you. Presently he caught her puzzled glance, and recollected himself, turning on the charm again. She remained by the door until the walls of the city swallowed the bobbing lantern. He was a thin old man, a wreck in a ruined body, but nothing would induce him to stand in any other way than as stiffly erect as possible like the soldier he had always been, even though he was obliged to lean on his silver-handled cane to do so. He felt no pain from this cowardly kick.
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