Having being charged with a felony, Mr Headstone was considered too desperate a villain to be kept within the modest confines of the metropolitan police station at Mutton Hill. It being the professional opinion of the magistrate, the arresting officer, the jailer and the obstreperous cook that only the walls of Newgate could contain such a specimen of human knavery, arrangements were made to convey the pedagogue to that noble institution, where, by commingling with others of his kind, he would either learn the error of his ways, or become more intimately acquainted with the tricks of his chosen trade.
A horse drawn van was procured for the purpose and Mr Headstone was obligingly accommodated on the inside without the necessity of having to pay a fare. This mode of transportation was similar to a hackney carriage in every feature but one; this being the addition of iron bars to the windows, and that not for any decorative purpose. It was a pale and forlorn face that peered through these palings of captivity at the crowded street on which the stone ramparts of Newgate prison frowned so darkly. As the van passed through the stone arch and the great iron portcullis closed behind him, Mr Headstone surveyed his new surroundings and its occupants with a cautious eye.
Mr Charles Dickens
