“My eye, he’s giving it her pretty hot,” said the cracksman, “and doesn’t he cheek the beaks?”
“I call him a right-down good’un,” observed another.
It would be difficult to describe the sensation produced when the young man read the following passage from the report:—
“Pray, Miss Fulford, were you not acquainted some time ago with a person named Charles Peace?”
The reader paused suddenly. Every eye was directed towards our hero.
“Jemmy Johnson squeeze me, but if that aint a cawker,” exclaimed one of the prisoners.
“Order—silence!” said the warder, who began to repent having permitted the reading of the newspaper. He, however, found it impossible to repress the exclamations and inquiries which came from all sides.
“Why, was she a fancy girl of yours?” said one.
“Well, I never,” cried another.
“But aint it lucky he’s in quod?” observed another. “If it had not been for that he might have been charged with the murder.”