possible for those under detention.

Later in the course of my Anarchist career I had occasion to visit
Newgate on a similar errand, and was struck by the same incongruity in the
system. The external impression made by Newgate was very different,
however.

There is no suggestion of pleasantness about Newgate. It strikes you
indeed as the threshold of the gallows, and is calculated to arouse qualms
in the most strenuous upholder of capital punishment. A constant sense of
gloom is settled like a pall over the whole building, blacker even than
the soot and grime which encrust it. Inside, the dreary atmosphere is
ominous of the constant vicinity of the hangman's drop, doors seem for
ever to be swinging heavily and locking, keys and chains clanking, and
over all the uncompromising flagstaff looms like an embodied threat.

After my many dreary wanderings round London, the clambering in and out
of omnibuses and other vehicles, and prison interviews, I found the
old-world tranquillity of the Temple quite a relief.

Here began a new order of search. I had to find a barrister, and that
without delay. But how, whom, and in what court or lane did the right man
dwell? During one brief moment indeed my thoughts turned towards our
family solicitor as a possible counsellor in this matter, but only to be
promptly diverted into other channels. That worthy gentleman's feelings
would certainly not have withstood so rude a shock. I could picture him,
in my mind's eye, slowly removing his gold pince-nez and looking at me in
blank but indulgent surprise, as at one who had suddenly taken leave of
her senses. No, this would never do. Barristers by the score must surely
reside in the labyrinths of the Temple, and I determined to seek one first