I
therefore reconstructed my flat, and placed in the centre of it a dark
room strong as any Bastille cell. It was twelve feet square, and
contained no furniture except a number of shelves, a lavatory in one
corner, and a pallet on the floor. It was ventilated by two flues
from the centre of the ceiling, in one of which operated an electric
fan, which, when the room was occupied, sent the foul air up that
flue, and drew down fresh air through the other. The entrance to this
cell opened out from my bedroom, and the most minute inspection would
have failed to reveal the door, which was of massive steel, and was
opened and shut by electric buttons that were partially concealed by
the head of my bed. Even if they had been discovered, they would have
revealed nothing, because the first turn of the button lit the
electric light at the head of my bed; the second turn put it out; and
this would happen as often as the button was turned to the right. But
turn it three times slowly to the left, and the steel door opened. Its
juncture was completely concealed by panelling. I have brought many a
scoundrel to reason within the impregnable walls of that small room.
Those who know the building regulations of London will wonder how it
was possible for me to delude the Government inspector during the
erection of this section of the Bastille in the midst of the modern
metropolis.
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