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. ‘Oh, you may come to me on any mission you like,’ uttered Mrs Sindlesham roguishly. She took up the poker and stirred the fire vigorously. “Well, anyhow, consider it open. “NO!” she said, at last, with something in her voice that reminded Ann Veronica of a sprung tennis-racket. "You have killed him," cried Winifred in alarm. Jonathan Wild and his bloodhounds, with a hundred others, incited by the reward, will be upon my track.
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