I knew it was in vain to cry 'murder!' in the Mint, so I had recourse to stratagem. His head was small and bullet-shaped, and he did not wear a wig, but had his sleek black hair cut off closely round his temples. On this side a flight of wooden steps, protected by a hand-rail, led to a door opening upon the summit of the prison. " "Take a glass of gin, Ma'am," cried Poll Maggot, holding up a bottle of spirit; "it used to be your favourite liquor, I've heard. Yet the fact remains that you do not understand me at all.
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