She could feel his eyes surreptiously scanning her backside. She could still smell the now familiar scent of him on the girl's body in the makeshift grave. The windows were grated, the doors barred; each room had the name as well as the appearance of a cell; and the very porter who stood at the gate, habited like a jailer, with his huge bunch of keys at his girdle, his forbidding countenance and surly demeanour seemed to be borrowed from Newgate. Figg?" said Jack, peevishly.
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