Horrors abounded in every passageway as each turn could bring a vision of a poor woman running from her screaming plague-infested son or a bloated corpse of a rich man whose mouth lolled open, showing gaps where someone had pried out a few golden teeth. This man was apparently not sure whether he was Meysey Hill or not. At six o'clock, the wicket was shut; and at nine, the jail was altogether locked up. Ruth sighed; Spurlock stood up and drew his hand across his forehead as if awakening from a dream. "Von't you hear me?—ough! ough!" demanded Sharples, after a pause.
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