"I understand," she said. “It’s your birthday today, May Day. She leaned forward, her chin in her palms, her elbows on her knees, and she set her gaze upon his face and kept it there in dreamy contemplation. Now it is—’ ‘What are you doing still here, missie, that’s what I’d like to know?’ demanded the man Trodger, sticking to his guns. As she did so the preparation-room door opened behind her. ‘And if it was not for that imbecile of a Gérard, who has put his soldiers to watch for me, it would not need that I make it. Above was a spacious hall, connected with it by a flight of stone steps, at the further end of which stood an immense grated door, called in the slang of the place "The Jigger," through the bars of which the felons in the upper wards were allowed to converse with their friends, or if they wished to enter the room, or join the revellers below, they were at liberty to do so, on payment of a small fine. You do not need my compliments. Besides, he might hear things.
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