“I didn’t blow up the house. ‘Dare I suppose that to be of her making?’ Gerald flushed. . I always told you some accident would happen. Some years after the date of this history, an immense ventilator was placed at the top of the Gate, with the view of purifying the prison, which, owing to its insufficient space and constantly-crowded state, was never free from that dreadful and contagious disorder, now happily unknown, the jail-fever. He lost control of the machine. No matter how swiftly he pursued this riddle, he could not bring it to a halt. It's my way when I'm ruffled.
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