A few yards further off something grey, inert, was lying, a huddled-up heap of humanity twisted into a strange unnatural shape. Whether the turnkey entertained any suspicion of the old man, Jack could not tell, but that night he was more than usually rigorous in his search; and having carefully examined the prisoners and finding nothing to excite his suspicions, he departed tolerably satisfied. Was there no echo anywhere in Miss Stanley’s pacified brain? Those empty rooms, if they were empty, were the equivalents of astoundingly decorated predecessors. In a few minutes more he had made a breach in the roof wide enough to allow him to pass through.
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