El Dorado by Emma Orczy — Read

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Once more he was being led through the interminable corridors of the gigantic building. Once more from the narrow, barred windows close by him he heard the heartbreaking sighs, the moans, the curses which spoke of tragedies that he could only guess.

Héron was walking on ahead of him, preceding him by some fifty mètres or so, his long legs covering the distances more rapidly than de Batz could follow them. The latter knew his way well about the old prison. Few men in Paris possessed that accurate knowledge of its intricate passages and its network of cells and halls which de Batz had acquired after close and persevering study.

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