“I thought every one had heard,” said Miss Klegg. But, suppose I've no place to lock 'em up in, how then?" Quilt looked a little perplexed. On his appearance, Jack levelled a pistol at his head. Wild will hang me. 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. Perhaps you'll next inform us why you have occasioned this disturbance.
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