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There was a murmur of commiseration as Charles Darnay crossed the

room to a grated door where the gaoler awaited him, and many

voices--among which, the soft and compassionate voices of women

were conspicuous--gave him good wishes and encouragement. He

turned at the grated door, to render the thanks of his heart; it

closed under the gaoler's hand; and the apparitions vanished from

his sight forever.

The wicket opened on a stone staircase, leading upward. When they

had ascended forty steps (the prisoner of half an hour already

counted them), the gaoler opened a low black door, and they

passed into a solitary cell. It struck cold and damp, but was not

dark.

"Yours," said the gaoler.

"Why am I confined alone?"

"How do I know!"

"I can buy pen, ink, and paper?"

"Such are not my orders. You will be visited, and can ask then.

At present, you may buy your food, and nothing more."