She became more assertive, more defiant. “There is my aunt,” she said. "The door!—the door!—death!" he added, as he tried the handle, "it is locked—and I am unarmed. There was only one idea in his head now—to batter and bruise and crush this weakling, then cast him at the feet of his love-lorn wife. Built and paved with stone, without beds, or any other sort of protection from the cold, this dreadful hole, accounted the most dark and dismal in the prison, was made the receptacle of such miserable wretches as could not pay the customary fees. "No, no, let him alone," interposed Wood.
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