Glancing idly up at her own window as they had swung round the corner she had seen a strange thing. She had but to choose. What the editor had to say none of the three cared just then. The chief scene of these disgusting orgies,—the cellar, just referred to,—was a large low-roofed vault, about four feet below the level of the street, perfectly dark, unless when illumined by a roaring fire, and candles stuck in pyramidal lumps of clay, with a range of butts and barrels at one end, and benches and tables at the other, where the prisoners, debtors, and malefactors male and female, assembled as long as their money lasted, and consumed the time in drinking, smoking, and gaming with cards and dice. We can get absorbed in play, in games, in the business we do. "Hear! hear!" vociferated Quilt. I went to her rooms to-night. " "You read those yarns?" Spurlock's head came about, and there was eagerness in his eyes.
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