The old man was conducted to Jack's cell by the turnkey, who remained near him during their interview. She had, it was true, accepted doubtfully the pen he had offered. White leaned forward in her chair with an anxious smile designed to throw oil upon the troubled waters. It got on my nerves—the women I saw. 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. She could feel her face turning beet red.
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