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- Чарльз Диккенс
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The
turnkey
conducted
him
—
trembling
from
head
to
foot
,
and
constantly
crying
under
his
breath
,
What
was
he
to
do
!
while
his
irresolute
fingers
bedabbled
the
tears
upon
his
face
—
up
one
of
the
common
staircases
in
the
prison
to
a
door
on
the
garret
story
.
Upon
which
door
the
turnkey
knocked
with
the
handle
of
his
key
.
‘
Come
in
!
’
cried
a
voice
inside
.
The
turnkey
,
opening
the
door
,
disclosed
in
a
wretched
,
ill
-
smelling
little
room
,
two
hoarse
,
puffy
,
red
-
faced
personages
seated
at
a
rickety
table
,
playing
at
all
-
fours
,
smoking
pipes
,
and
drinking
brandy
.
‘
Doctor
,
’
said
the
turnkey
,
‘
here
’
s
a
gentleman
’
s
wife
in
want
of
you
without
a
minute
’
s
loss
of
time
!
’
The
doctor
’
s
friend
was
in
the
positive
degree
of
hoarseness
,
puffiness
,
red
-
facedness
,
all
-
fours
,
tobacco
,
dirt
,
and
brandy
;
the
doctor
in
the
comparative
—
hoarser
,
puffier
,
more
red
-
faced
,
more
all
-
fourey
,
tobaccoer
,
dirtier
,
and
brandier
.
The
doctor
was
amazingly
shabby
,
in
a
torn
and
darned
rough
-
weather
sea
-
jacket
,
out
at
elbows
and
eminently
short
of
buttons
(
he
had
been
in
his
time
the
experienced
surgeon
carried
by
a
passenger
ship
)
,
the
dirtiest
white
trousers
conceivable
by
mortal
man
,
carpet
slippers
,
and
no
visible
linen
.
‘
Childbed
?
’
said
the
doctor
.
‘
I
’
m
the
boy
!
’
With
that
the
doctor
took
a
comb
from
the
chimney
-
piece
and
stuck
his
hair
upright
—
which
appeared
to
be
his
way
of
washing
himself
—
produced
a
professional
chest
or
case
,
of
most
abject
appearance
,
from
the
cupboard
where
his
cup
and
saucer
and
coals
were
,
settled
his
chin
in
the
frowsy
wrapper
round
his
neck
,
and
became
a
ghastly
medical
scarecrow
.
The
doctor
and
the
debtor
ran
down
-
stairs
,
leaving
the
turnkey
to
return
to
the
lock
,
and
made
for
the
debtor
’
s
room
.
All
the
ladies
in
the
prison
had
got
hold
of
the
news
,
and
were
in
the
yard
.
Some
of
them
had
already
taken
possession
of
the
two
children
,
and
were
hospitably
carrying
them
off
;
others
were
offering
loans
of
little
comforts
from
their
own
scanty
store
;
others
were
sympathising
with
the
greatest
volubility
.
The
gentlemen
prisoners
,
feeling
themselves
at
a
disadvantage
,
had
for
the
most
part
retired
,
not
to
say
sneaked
,
to
their
rooms
;
from
the
open
windows
of
which
some
of
them
now
complimented
the
doctor
with
whistles
as
he
passed
below
,
while
others
,
with
several
stories
between
them
,
interchanged
sarcastic
references
to
the
prevalent
excitement
.
It
was
a
hot
summer
day
,
and
the
prison
rooms
were
baking
between
the
high
walls
.
In
the
debtor
’
s
confined
chamber
,
Mrs
Bangham
,
charwoman
and
messenger
,
who
was
not
a
prisoner
(
though
she
had
been
once
)
,
but
was
the
popular
medium
of
communication
with
the
outer
world
,
had
volunteered
her
services
as
fly
-
catcher
and
general
attendant
.
The
walls
and
ceiling
were
blackened
with
flies
.
Mrs
Bangham
,
expert
in
sudden
device
,
with
one
hand
fanned
the
patient
with
a
cabbage
leaf
,
and
with
the
other
set
traps
of
vinegar
and
sugar
in
gallipots
;
at
the
same
time
enunciating
sentiments
of
an
encouraging
and
congratulatory
nature
,
adapted
to
the
occasion
.
‘
The
flies
trouble
you
,
don
’
t
they
,
my
dear
?
’
said
Mrs
Bangham
.
‘
But
p
’
raps
they
’
ll
take
your
mind
off
of
it
,
and
do
you
good
.
What
between
the
buryin
ground
,
the
grocer
’
s
,
the
waggon
-
stables
,
and
the
paunch
trade
,
the
Marshalsea
flies
gets
very
large
.
P
’
raps
they
’
re
sent
as
a
consolation
,
if
we
only
know
’
d
it
.
How
are
you
now
,
my
dear
?
No
better
?
No
,
my
dear
,
it
ain
’
t
to
be
expected
;
you
’
ll
be
worse
before
you
’
re
better
,
and
you
know
it
,
don
’
t
you
?
Yes
.
That
’
s
right
!
And
to
think
of
a
sweet
little
cherub
being
born
inside
the
lock
!
Now
ain
’
t
it
pretty
,
ain
’
t
that
something
to
carry
you
through
it
pleasant
?
Why
,
we
ain
’
t
had
such
a
thing
happen
here
,
my
dear
,
not
for
I
couldn
’
t
name
the
time
when
.
And
you
a
crying
too
?
’
said
Mrs
Bangham
,
to
rally
the
patient
more
and
more
.
‘
You
!
Making
yourself
so
famous
!
With
the
flies
a
falling
into
the
gallipots
by
fifties
!
And
everything
a
going
on
so
well
!
And
here
if
there
ain
’
t
,
’
said
Mrs
Bangham
as
the
door
opened
,
‘
if
there
ain
’
t
your
dear
gentleman
along
with
Dr
Haggage
!
And
now
indeed
we
are
complete
,
I
think
!
’
The
doctor
was
scarcely
the
kind
of
apparition
to
inspire
a
patient
with
a
sense
of
absolute
completeness
,
but
as
he
presently
delivered
the
opinion
,
‘
We
are
as
right
as
we
can
be
,
Mrs
Bangham
,
and
we
shall
come
out
of
this
like
a
house
afire
;
’
and
as
he
and
Mrs
Bangham
took
possession
of
the
poor
helpless
pair
,
as
everybody
else
and
anybody
else
had
always
done
,
the
means
at
hand
were
as
good
on
the
whole
as
better
would
have
been
.
The
special
feature
in
Dr
Haggage
’
s
treatment
of
the
case
,
was
his
determination
to
keep
Mrs
Bangham
up
to
the
mark
.
