It did not cheer or fortify him with false courage and recklessness; it simply enveloped him in a mist of unreality. She met the keen grey eyes of a clean-shaven man, between forty and fifty, quietly dressed in professional attire. Suddenly he understood what had happened. He had now reached what was called the Lower Leads,—a flat, covering a part of the prison contiguous to the gateway, and surrounded on all sides by walls about fourteen feet high. As his eyes adjusted, he was able to make out the great shrouded shapes of the furniture. ‘Very useful, of course. ‘What happened, ma’am?’ enquired Gerald gently.
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