MY first few days' experience in my new position satisfied me that
Doctor Dulcifer preserved himself from betrayal by a system of
surveillance worthy of the very worst days of the Holy Inquisition
itself.

No man of us ever knew that he was not being overlooked at home, or
followed when he went out, by another man. Peepholes were pierced in the
wall of each room, and we were never certain, while at work, whose eye
was observing, or whose ear was listening in secret. Though we all lived
together, we were probably the least united body of men ever assembled
under one roof. By way of effectually keeping up the want of union
between us, we were not all trusted alike. I soon discovered that
Old File and Young File were much further advanced in the doctor's
confidence than Mill, Screw, or myself. There was a locked-up room,
and a continually-closed door shutting off a back staircase, of both of
which Old File and Young File possessed keys that were never so much as
trusted in the possession of the rest of us. There was also a trap-door
in the floor of the principal workroom, the use of which was known to
nobody but the doctor and his two privileged men. If we had not been all
nearly on an equality in the matter of wages, these distinctions
would have made bad blood among us. As it was, nobody having reason
to complain of unjustly-diminished wages, nobody cared about any
preferences in which profit was not involved.