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Chapter 15
Hecoveredthecourthouseandjailhousenewssimplybylookingouthisupstairswindow.Theofficebuildingwasonthenorthwestcornerofthesquare,andtoreachitwehadtopassthejail.
TheMaycombjailwasthemostvenerableandhideousofthecounty’sbuildings.AtticussaiditwaslikesomethingCousinJoshuaSt.Clairmighthavedesigned.Itwascertainlysomeone’sdream.Starklyoutofplaceinatownofsquare-facedstoresandsteep-roofedhouses,theMaycombjailwasaminiatureGothicjokeonecellwideandtwocellshigh,completewithtinybattlementsandflyingbuttresses.Itsfantasywasheightenedbyitsredbrickfacadeandthethicksteelbarsatitsecclesiasticalwindows.Itstoodonnolonelyhill,butwaswedgedbetweenTyndal’sHardwareStoreandTheMaycombTribuneoffice.ThejailwasMaycomb’sonlyconversationpiece:itsdetractorssaiditlookedlikeaVictorianprivy;itssupporterssaiditgavethetownagoodsolidrespectablelook,andnostrangerwouldeversuspectthatitwasfullofniggers.
Aswewalkedupthesidewalk,wesawasolitarylightburninginthedistance."That’sfunny,"saidJem,"jaildoesn’thaveanoutsidelight."
"Lookslikeit’soverthedoor,"saidDill.
Alongextensioncordranbetweenthebarsofasecond-floorwindowanddownthesideofthebuilding.Inthelightfromitsbarebulb,Atticuswassittingproppedagainstthefrontdoor.
