CHAPTER XXII. "
"Murdered!" ejaculated Winifred. 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. There was so
much to see, so much to do, that he became what he had once been normally, a
lovable boy. Neither did his interest,—which was by no means
inconsiderable,—nor his general popularity, procure him the preferment he
desired.
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