If only—Anna, tell me,” she broke off suddenly, “how did you get to know Mr. But to plunge blindly into the unknown!" "I had to! I had to!" She had told him only the first part of her story. 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. To reach it would be a most difficult undertaking.
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