The room was reeling, or was it that she was going to faint? She recovered herself with a supreme effort. She could stow away, go to a place where there were no people to eat and end her life. Sharples received them at the threshold, and holding his lantern towards the prisoners to acquaint himself with their features, nodded to Quilt, between whom and himself some secret understanding seemed to subsist, and then closed and barred the door. Then he went back to his rooms and lit a cigar. If that's true, she's not long for this world. ‘You do not believe me?’ ‘I do not.
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