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. He was now at the entrance of the chapel, and striking the door over which he had previously climbed a violent blow with the bar, it flew open. Will you unlock that door?” “Never!” he said. Ennison stood still for a moment, swinging his latchkey upon his finger. 7.
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