The first of these, the Press Room, a dark close chamber, near Waterman's Hall, obtained its name from an immense wooden machine kept in it, with which such prisoners as refused to plead to their indictments were pressed to death—a species of inquisitorial torture not discontinued until so lately as the early part of the reign of George the Third, when it was abolished by an express statute. While Lady Bicknacre had never trusted Valade. “I am under police surveillance,” she said. Melusine came in, picked up the lantern, and heard the library door bang open just as the panel clicked closed behind her. Were I not Jonathan Wild, I'd be Jack Sheppard.
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