You would find things to laugh at even in Artemus Ward. Very slowly emerging out of a phase of stupefaction, these personal affairs and her personal problem resumed possession of her mind. “I mean to go to prison directly the session is over,” said Miss Klegg. “I don’t think you see,” she replied, with tears on her cheeks, and her brows knitting, “how it shames and, ah!—disgraces me—AH TISHU!” She put down the tray with a concussion on her toilet-table. They had not to tarry long. The prison gates were besieged like the entrance of a booth at a fair; and the Condemned Hold where he was confined, and to which visitors were admitted at the moderate rate of a guinea a-head, had quite the appearance of a showroom. Sailors would leave them at the trader's. The spy—if there was one hiding out in the late Jarvis Remenham’s empty house—would be taken unawares.
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