"Well—it might be a great deal worse," replied Frank. "You must have some strange characters here?" he added, enquiringly.
"I b'lieve ye!" exclaimed the turnkey, fixing his looks mysteriously upon the young gentleman in a species of dim intimation that it was indeed a very remarkable place. "You see that old feller in the rugged blue coat, a-rolling the fust racquet-ground there? Well—he come here to this prison twenty year ago in his carriage, and had his livery servants to wait upon him; and now he's glad to drag that roller every morning for a few pence."
"And can't he manage to get out?" asked Frank, with an ominous shudder.
"Lord bless you, sir," cried the turnkey, "he's his own prisoner!"
"His own prisoner!" repeated Curtis. "What—do you mean to say that he keeps himself in the Bench?"
"I do, sir—and a many does the same," continued the turnkey, in a low, mysterious tone. "These poor creaturs, sir, stay in prison so long that all their relations and friends dies off; and if they went out, they wouldn't have a soul to speak to, or a place to go to. So, if their creditors dies too and their discharge is sent 'em, they keep it in their pockets and never lodge it at the gate—'cos they prefer staying inside, where they have companions and can get a bit of something to eat in one way or another."
"This is the most extraordinary thing I ever heard in my life," said Frank.
"There's many things more stranger still here," returned his informant, who was pleased with the mysterious importance which his position as narrator of these marvels gave him. "What should you think of men putting themselves into prison, and making up their minds to stay here all their lives perhaps?"
"I should think you were joking if you said so," answered Curtis.
"Joking! Lord bless you, sir, I wouldn't joke about no such a thing," exclaimed the turnkey, with a spice of indignation in his manner. "But I'll tell you how it is. There—you see that stout man in the shooting-jacket a-bargaining for them bloaters with the chap that's sitting on the bench outside the Tap? Well—he committed a forgery, or summut of that kind; and, knowing there was a warrant against him, and not choosing to run away from London for fear of being took in the country, he got a friend to arrest him for debt. So he immediately passed over to the Bench by habeas; and the warrant for felony was lodged at the gate against him. But his debts must be paid before the warrant can be executed; and as you see he's in a manner his own detaining creditor—leastways, his friend outside is—he isn't likely to have his discharge till the felony business can be settled somehow or other."