“On the inside? Lord, no! But I can lock you in if you like,” with a grin.
“Oh no! I did not mean that!”
“Well, then you must just push the table against the door. It’s against rules,” with a wink, “but I shan’t be here to see.” And pulling her woollen shawl more closely about her, she continued to stare at the girl. Presently, “Lord’s sakes!” she said, “it’s a queer world! I suppose you never was in a jail before? Never saw the inside of one, perhaps?”
“No.”
“It’s something political, I’m told,” snuffing the candle with her fingers, and resuming her inquisitive stare.
Henrietta nodded.
“With a man in it, of course! Drat the men! They do a plaguey deal of mischief! Many’s the decent lass that’s been transported because of them!”
Henrietta’s smile faded suddenly.
“I hope it’s not as bad as that,” she said.
“Well, I don’t know,” scrutinising the girl’s face. “It’s for you to say. The officer that brought you—quite the gentleman too—told us it was something to do with a murder. But you know best.”