up here," he explained.

Sir Charles laughed, got together the other members of his party and all
followed Mr. Gillett to a narrow companion way. There a strong iron door
stopped their progress, but, taking a key from his pocket the police
agent thrust it into a great padlock, gave it a turn, and swung back the
barrier. Before them stretched a long aisle; at each end stood a
soldier, with musket; on one side were the cells, small, heavily-barred.
The closeness of the air was particularly and disagreeably noticeable;
here sunlight never entered, and the sullen beating of the waves against
the wooden shell was the only sound that disturbed the tomb-like
stillness of the place.

One or two of the party looked soberer; the child's eyes were large with
awe and wonder; she regarded, not without dread, something moving, a
shape, a human form in each terrible little coop. But Mr. Gillett's face
shone with livelier emotions; he peered into the cells at his charges
with a keen bright gaze that had in it something of the animal tamer's
zest for his part.

"Well, how are we all to-day?" he observed in his most animated manner
to the guard. "All doing well?"

"Number Six complained of being ill, but I say it's only the dumps.
Number Fourteen's been garrulous."

"Garrulous, eh? Not a little flighty?" The guard nodded; Mr. Gillett
whispered a few instructions, asked a number of other questions.
Meanwhile the child had paused before one of the cells and, fascinated,
was gazing within. What was it that held her? the pity of the spectacle?