On such a day as this, Major Buckley and myself, after a sharp walk, found ourselves in front of the principal gaol in Sydney.
We were admitted, for we had orders; and a small, wiry, clever-looking man about fifty bowed to us as we entered the white-washed corridor, which led from the entrance hall.

We had a few words with him, and then followed him.
To the darkest passage in the darkest end, of that dreary place; to the condemned cells.

And my heart sank as the heavy bolt shot back, and we went into the first one on the right.
Before us was a kind of bed-place.

And on that bedplace lay the figure of a man.

Though it is twenty years ago since I saw it, I can remember that scene as though it were yesterday.
He lay upon a heap of tumbled blankets, with his face buried in a pillow.