Lights gleamed from the lower rooms, and, on a nearer approach to the building, the sound of revelry might be heard from within. The windows were grated, the doors barred; each room had the name as well as the appearance of a cell; and the very porter who stood at the gate, habited like a jailer, with his huge bunch of keys at his girdle, his forbidding countenance and surly demeanour seemed to be borrowed from Newgate. "Vill this do?" demanded the constable, taking the candle from the lantern, the better to display the narrow limits of the hole. Nuns, I mean.
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